


Letters from war

by Babd



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 14:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 215,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babd/pseuds/Babd
Summary: This story isn't mine, I just happened to have a copy before it was taken down, and am putting it up for a friend.





	1. Chapter 1

Letters from War

by hunnyfresh

 

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any recognizable characters.

AN: This is written for my friend, stable-girl, over on tumblr who asked for an SQ story based off of Pink's song "Who Knew." This is an AU, and as much as I researched, I almost guarantee there will be inaccuracies when it comes to anything military. I hope you guys can bear with me on that. Also, I was able to do the pen pal thing to the troops in high school, and I don't know if it's the same with the States, but let's just say it is. The title of this story comes from Mark Schultz's "Letters from War." The story will run for roughly three chapters. Thanks for the prompt, and I hope you enjoy it!

Due to some inaccuracies about Emma's position and such, I have updated this chapter. I had her as a technician, but it makes more sense for the story to have her as infantry. Hopefully now it's more accurate military-wise. Big thanks to tjemd, Jules-Day, and RedReader1 for pointing out the problems! I owe you guys big time!

"It would do wonders for your image, Madam Mayor." Sidney followed Regina around the mayoral office with a few printed out documents and waved them all in her face.

She huffed and glared at him when the papers nearly caused a paper cut to the six-month old Henry strapped to her hip. "Watch where you're waving those," she hissed.

Sidney ducked his head obediently, his cheeks heating up under the brunette's steely glare. "My apologies." Despite his embarrassment, the small incident did nothing to draw him away from his track. "But just think about the headlines: Storybrooke's Mayor Supports the Troops. It doesn't hurt to have a few allies in the military, Regina, even if it is just a soldier."

Regina sighed and positioned Henry more securely into the space of her left arm before retrieving the papers from Sidney. "You do realize I adopted Henry only a few months ago. I am already juggling this town and motherhood. I do not have time to take in some stranger."

"You're not housing them. You'll only be pen pals, Madam Mayor. It builds morale in the army for homesick soldiers," Sidney reassured. After reading the Mayor's hesitant expression, he quickly added, "you're not enlisting into the war."

"Obviously." She leaned her head against Henry's when the boy pushed his own under hers to get a look at just what held Mommy's attention. Regina instinctively placed a kiss on top of his thin light brown hair, soothing the imminent fussing that was surely on its way from the child. When she glanced back up at Sidney after examining the paper, she glared at the reporter and motioned her eyes to the door. Without another word, he scurried out of her office and shut the door behind him.

Regina turned and sat at her desk, nestling Henry into her lap as she read over the information of the soldier who would be her pen pal. "I guess we'll be making a new friend, Henry. Do you like that?"

The boy gurgled happily, reaching out to grab any and all objects in his path before his mother could react. The move was futile for Regina was ever cautious and pushed away all her work to clear the space in front of her son. She kissed his temple as she read the soldier's name.

Private Emma Swan.

Fort Benning, GA

A grenade went off in the distance, the prevalent ringing pierced Emma's ear as she crouched down in a freshly dug trench large enough to house her, her sergeant, and two other soldiers in her troop. Beads of sweat dripped down her forehead onto the bridge of her nose as the burden of all her gear weighed down on her, bullets raining overhead as soldiers in hightowers shot strategically over the practise field of the camp.

The simulations Emma had been through in her infantry training were more often than not done at full speed with the very real threat of danger. The world was still shocked over the events that had happened a month ago in New York, so Emma's squad, and the rest of the United States Army, trained harder than ever.

Complete in full gear with the other half of her squad posing as the enemy, both had the same mission: neutralize the threat.

This particular training had Emma's team limited with nothing more than their entrenching tool. While she could use it as a weapon, close combat was the key to success in this one, and as soon as the gunfire ceased, she took less than a second to catch her breath as her fellow teammate properly surveyed the area. On his signal, they withdrew from the trench, allowing the darkness to cover them, and kept closely to the ground. Sergeant Booth had stayed in the trench, his role was to play a wounded comrade while in reality he was timing how quickly they were able to succeed.

Her team kept to the wall of a dilapidated cabin, listening carefully for any movement in the quiet of the night. The soldier in front gave the signal to move, but Emma, pulling up the rear, felt the metal of an AK-47 against her back. The other two members hadn't noticed, but the silence of the night told Emma that her foe had snuck away from his team and isolated what he perceived to be the weakest threat. She smirked to herself, placing her hands above her head in surrender as she turned slowly to see Private Cassidy, victory already in his eyes as he pointed the gun at the middle of her forehead.

"Sorry, Em," he said with little apology. Emma didn't blame him. It was life or death after all. Just not hers. She slowly kneeled as he approached, but at the last moment, she grabbed the mouth of the rifle and used her momentum to kick her legs out forward, kicking out the man's knees as she claimed the gun and turned it on him, pressing it firmly to the back of his neck.

"I'm not," she shrugged.

The overhead lights turned on to shine the field, and Emma could see that another one of her teammates had succeeded at knocking out his opponent. The other, however, was laying on the ground presumably dead with the enemy hovering over him with a rifle pressed against his head.

"You planning on getting killed, Johnson?" August pulled himself out of the trench and stormed over to the fallen soldier.

"No, sir." Johnson muttered into the dirt.

"Tell that to your family." August turned to the rest of the team. "Good work. Head back to camp."

Emma helped Neal to his feet, suppressing a smirk as the man groaned as he stood. She patted his back as they all jogged back to the compound, put away their equipment and gear, and headed off to hit the showers.

The routine was good for Emma. The discipline was even better. After sixteen years of being passed from group home to group home, being kicked out of school for truancy and violent behaviour, and more infamously, hacking the school's computer system in order to change her grades, Emma had appeared in front of a judge where the consequence was either juvie or boot camp. There was potential in her, the judge had said, and all she needed was a little bit of discipline in order to keep her steady. She had wanted to flip the geizer the bird, but she knew August, a foster brother she had clicked with in the latest home, was on a similar militaristic path, so why not?

The first six months at boot camp had kicked Emma's ass. She wasn't used to a place where the solution to her outspoken and vulgar behaviour was to do push-ups till she collapsed or to clean mess hall until she could see her reflection in the linoleum. She was used to playing up her female assets to swipe a chocolate bar from a corner store here and there, but that didn't matter here. All that mattered was obedience and smart thinking.

So she learned quickly, showing the officers yelling in her face that her orphaned ass could rise to the top of her division and take down men twice her size with nothing more than her bare hands.

Sometimes it was easier that Emma had no social attachments in her life. She didn't really have a home to get homesick over, and she beat the traffic at her graduation since she had no one to take her picture with. But there were a hell of a lot more times where on those weeks when she returned home from leave, she wished she had a place to go other than her Volkswagen beetle that was currently waiting for her at a storage unit in Boston.

She had August, though. Finding him to be her Sergeant when she was sent to Fort Benning was a blessing in disguise. Though they had seen each other as siblings, he was never more lenient towards her, but he was the closest thing she had to family since her parents dumped her on the side of a highway. Having him so close made her feel more grounded, sure, and confident in her skill. He'd never admit it, but Emma even had a better shot than him. She learned to tease him around some, claiming he better get on her level unless he wanted to see an early grave.

Emma arrived to her hall after the sweat and dirt were washed away just as the rest of her squad was filing in from their showers. She gave her cursory nods to her team as she passed the line of cots to where hers was placed at the corner. She was only one of three female recruits in her squad, and she was lucky enough not to be saddled in the middle with the rest of the men where the prevailing smell of BO lay. Though as she passed the other bunks, she noticed not for the first time how bleak and bare her corner was compared to the rest of the room that was covered with pictures, letters, and cards from loved ones. Hers, on the other hand, was the same manilla beige walls with forest green bedsheets as when she first arrived. She tried not to think too much of it as she dropped unceremoniously into her bed, using the free hour they got after work and before dinner to relax and shut her eyes as her Sergeant came in yelling out mail call.

The man in question disrupted her attempted relaxation time when he tossed an envelope onto her stomach with a knowing smirk. "Who's Regina?"

"Who?" Emma sat up, scooching all the way back so that she could rest her against the wall.

He motioned to the letter on her stomach. Emma picked it up and examined it as if she had never seen a letter before. Then again, she had no reason why anyone would ever send anything to her. In the years she had been affiliated with the military and the months spent enlisted, not once had she ever needed to be present for mail call. The only meaningful pieces of paper that held her name were her birth certificate and her warrant. So what the hell was this? Her thumb caressed over the return address, feeling the minuscule abrasions of the woman's penmanship under her pulse. Regina Mills.

"You didn't tell me you had a lady friend back home." August held his hand over his heart feigning a wound. "I thought we were closer than that."

"I don't know her," the blonde argued, never taking her eyes off the letter. A part of her thought that this was some trick, that she'd be called back to Boston and forced to complete her sentence for her juvie record.

August moving in closer so that he was nearly nose to nose with Emma prompted her to look up from the envelope. "You're supposed to open it," he whispered conspiratorially.

"Yes, sir," Emma mocked before raising an eyebrow and indicating her need for privacy. With hands rising in defeat, August left Emma to go inspect the rest of his squad, giving the blonde the space to open the mysterious letter in peace.

Deft fingers sneaked a nail under the flap and pulled out its contents, curious, eager, and slightly hesitant to read the letter penned in the elegant scrawl.

October 14 2001

Dear Private Swan,

First and foremost, I'd like to take this moment to thank you and fellow soldiers like you for defending our country. I can only imagine the type of rigorous training you must go through and all the sacrifices you must make, and I appreciate it.

I understand this may seem unorthodox, but I've recently learned that writing to the troops can prove helpful. The program in place that allows civilians to send their thanks to soldiers seems to be quite successful, and from the testimonies I've read online, both parties are encouraged by it. I'm sure you're in constant correspondence with your family, and I hope you don't mind another - letter that is.

My name is Regina Mills. This letter is penned to you from the small town of Storybrooke, Maine of which I am the Mayor. It's quite the peaceful town, and I make sure of that, otherwise who knows what mischief my son will be able to get into.

Do you have any children yourself? Your family back home must be immensely proud of you. I hope you get to see them soon upon your circulation back home.

Thank you again for all that you do.

Sincerely,

Regina Mills

There was a sad pang in Emma's stomach as the woman whom she pictured in her mind to be some kindly middle-aged woman seeking to do a good deed kept bringing up a family Emma didn't have. It was an honest mistake and a kind gesture to ask, but not for the first time did Emma wish she had some sort of contact with the real world. Even though her squad hadn't been on tour yet, the months of monotonous routine had Emma wishing for some companionship that wasn't someone in her troop.

"Serge!" Emma called out, scrambling to her feet when August had walked by. He backtracked and leaned against the wall giving her his attention. "I wasn't aware I was signed up to be a pen pal."

Understanding flooded the Sergeant's face as he grinned. "You haven't ever had a letter come in, Swan. You want to know a good trick to stay alive when you're out in the field? You keep sane when you can."

"You write home?" Emma questioned disbelieving. She knew August had just as hard of a time at their foster home as Emma did.

He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll have you know that my writing career is going to take off as soon as I'm home permanently."

Emma shook her head with smirk, realizing that even here August would wind up by himself in a corner, scribbling into a notepad.

"Write back to her." He squeezed her arm in earnest before pushing off the wall and continuing his inspections leaving Emma to reread Regina's letter.

Maybe August was right. At least now with this Regina lady, she could maybe expect a letter every now and again. It was more than what Emma could ask for, and who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth?

She shrugged and replaced the letter back in its envelope and placed the envelope under her pillow. This pen pal thing might not be such a bad idea after all.

Regina balanced a sleeping Henry in her arms along with a mound of paperwork that had piled up at the office. With some clever shifting, she was able to pluck the mail from the mailbox and let herself into the mansion. The many items she attempted to carry began to give way as soon as she stepped over the threshold, and with her only concern on keeping Henry safe, and hopefully asleep, she let the mail and the paperwork fall haphazardly onto the side table, a few wayward files and envelopes floating to the ground as the sleeping boy whined in his sleep.

"Shhh," Regina soothed, patting his head and kissing his temple. Her smooth humming lulled the boy back to sleep as he nuzzled more comfortably against the crook of her neck. She made her way into the dining room where a small bassinet was placed and gently eased Henry into the cot. He clutched at her finger in his sleep, and Regina took the moment to sit and stroke his tiny palm, grinning down at her sleeping son.

Her decision to adopt had been an easy, if not nerve wracking one. She had waited so long at the chance to have a family, and now that she did, she loved every moment of it. Henry was a crier, yes. His first few weeks with Regina had the usually put-together Mayor clawing at her hair when she realized the boy was colicky. He also had the tendency to keep her awake at night and believe everything in his reach was meant to be eaten, but he was worth it. She could watch him sleeping all day, but the call of littered paperwork had her kissing her son's forehead and retreating back to the foyer to clean up the mess of papers and envelopes she had made.

She didn't notice the one envelope caught behind the side table leg hailing all the way from Georgia as she stood and examined the contracts in her folders.

"So?" August asked as he and the rest of his troop were outside in the unusually blazing sun doing push ups.

"So what?" Emma pushed up, her eyes forward before lowering down until her chest nearly touched the dry ground.

"Why haven't you written back to that lady?" He grunted, hovering on his arms for a second too long as the pain in his leg from a wound received in Korea acted up.

"What makes you think I haven't?"

"Because I haven't seen your name in the mail for two weeks."

"You know how long it takes to sort," Emma pointed out factually as if she had mulled over the same reason in her mind not for the first time. A whistle blew and as one, the troops stood and jogged their way over to the obstacle field course. "Plus, she's a Mayor," Emma reasoned as she lined up beside her sergeant, keeping up with his pace.

"Of some back-country town. How much can really go on there?"

The blonde mumbled a shrug and dove alongside with August to crawl under the barbed wire. She kept her head low and her body flat. Getting snagged while stuck in the mud ruined her momentum. Along with the sporadic very real gun shots sounding over her head, Emma refused to dawdle under the wire.

"Write her back again," August hissed beside her.

"No." Her cheeks tinted pink, but thankfully the mud caking her face hid the fact that she was mortified by the idea. Emma Swan did not beg for friendship. Sure, her parole officers may have said she caused trouble as a cry for attention, but she never went out of her way to make friends, and if this Regina Mills had felt she had done her duty, then so be it.

They emerged from the dirt and sprinted to the wall where they clung to a rope and began climbing their way up.

"Emma," August pressed. "You're going to go stir crazy."

"Bet you I won't." Emma grunted her teeth as the rope burned in her already calloused hands. Her foot slipped, but with a tightened gripped she managed to make her way to the top of the wall.

"I'm not taking that bet." August joined her at the top and the two made their way down.

"Thought you had your vices," Emma teased.

"I like to think I'm a smart guy." August released the rope halfway down the wall and tumbled on the ground before jogging to the next obstacle. Emma rolled her eyes at his extravagant behaviour, but that didn't stop her from releasing her own rope and land on her feet, her knees bending to absorb the shock.

"I know you keep reading it," August said once Emma caught up with him.

Her silence didn't deny the fact that for the last two weeks, Emma had been pulling the letter out from under her pillow and poured over Regina's words. She realized what was so addictive about it; a sense of being remembered and being wanted lingered deep within her and grew stronger with each read of the letter.

The blonde shrugged in reply as a whistle sounded, and without prompting, she and the rest of her squad fell to the ground where they stood for another round of push ups. "I got something," Emma pointed out before dropping the subject, intent on simply doing her training without a nosy sergeant barking in her ear.

She didn't know who Regina Mills was. She could be some old granny person or had a family of her own. She had a son, right? Maybe he wanted to enlist and she sought questions. Whoever she was, Emma had received her first letter from her, and that was more than what she could ask for.

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose, the editor of The Mirror talked incessantly into her ear as she cradled her phone between her ear and shoulder. She appreciated his enthusiasm when it came to investigating the ins and outs of her town, but when he insisted on calling during Henry's feeding time to drabble on about the type of pesticide Mr. French was using for his roses, her patience was wearing thin.

"Sidney," she hissed, wiping Henry's mouth free of homemade apple sauce before removing him from his high chair to allow him free reign of the house. She followed him as he crawled out of the kitchen, much too quickly for her liking, but the gates stationed at the base of the stairs set her mind at ease some. He was preoccupied with the miniature snowman lighting the corner of the hallway when Regina spoke again. "Why don't you file your inquisitions on paper, and I'll take a look at them when I get a free moment?"

"Of course, Madam Mayor," he eagerly confirmed. Even through the phone Regina could see his incessant head nod. "Oh! I was also planning on doing a human interest piece about you and your soldier."

While Regina loved every opportunity to get her picture in the paper, reminding the citizens of her town of her power, frankly, she was exhausted by the little man with the puppy dog crush on her. Plus, she hadn't even heard a reply back from Private Swan. She had done her part, and that was all she could vouch for. Though the idea that perhaps something had happened to the soldier before she could reply was unsettling, Regina simply pushed forward. She had a son to raise and a town to run after all. "That won't be necessary."

She paused when the sound of Henry's pitter-patter ceased. With a hasty goodbye to the reporter, Regina picked up her pace to look for her son. Her heart raced when a mess of brown curls weren't in her immediate eye sight, but as soon as she walked toward the front door, she let out a sigh of relief as her son was scurried under the side table, his back to Regina and clearly up to mischief. She should have known. Silence generally meant he was up to something.

"Sweetie," Regina called, placing her phone on the table and crouching down to his level. "What are you doing here?"

Henry turned his head, a corner of an envelope sodden in his mouth. His eyes were wide and curious, but that didn't stop the little munchkin from chomping away on his new treasure.

"Henry," Regina quietly scolded as she retrieved the letter from his mouth with some effort. "If you were still hungry, why didn't you say so?"

He babbled as he used his mother to pull himself up, reaching for the letter.

She shook her head lightly. "Can you say that, dear? Hungry? Hun-gry."

Her only response came from Henry blowing raspberries, spittle marring Regina's made up face. He was already distracted from the letter by his mother's necklace as he tugged on it and attempted to put it in his mouth. "We're getting there," Regina reassured, easing the necklace from his mouth.

She scooped him up in one arm and stood, bringing them into the living room where she sat him down on the puzzle-piece padding on the floor. Wincing at the wet letter in her grasp, her lips parted to see that it was from Private Swan.

She tore open the envelope quickly and winced again to see that it was dated nearly two months back. Oh dear god, had it been lost for that long? Her eyes scanned over the page, taking in the messy scrawl of Private Swan's print.

October 19 2001

Hi,

I gotta be honest, I don't really know what to say in these. No problem, I guess. I appreciate your thanks.

It's nice to meet you, Regina. Sort of. I mean, not that meeting you isn't nice, just that it's like an unofficial meeting via letters. I think by now you've realized that not only is my chicken scratch illegible, but I've also lost the handbook on Writing a Letter 101, so you'll have to excuse me on that.

Yours is actually the first letter I've ever gotten since I enlisted. Thank you for that.

I don't really have a family to write home to, and my sergeant who's like my brother, well, he's here with me, and he encouraged me to put my name on the pen pal list, so to speak, so here we are.

I haven't heard of Storybrooke, though it sounds like they've got themselves a fine mayor on their hands. I was born in Maine, coincidentally enough, but I've lived in so many different cities before I settled down in Boston and got my first taste of boot camp.

And to answer your question, though I'm sure you might have guessed already, I don't have kids. Remember, if your kid is as mischievous as you say, he's probably just an evil genius. Not that your kid is evil. I'm sure he's sweet.

Thank you for your letter. Seriously. It's probably one of the highlights of my day.

From,

Pr. Emma Swan

It was dated a few days after she had sent her own letter, and the gnawing unsettled feeling in her stomach only grew more as realization set in. She wasn't particularly fond of this pen pal assignment when Sidney had brought it up, but knowing that this soldier, this Emma Swan had received her first piece of mail from Regina, and Regina had gone two months without answering made the brunette feel uncharacteristically guilty. What must Private Swan think of her? Probably what the rest of the town thought of her. Uptight. Indifferent. Cold. If it weren't for Henry, the citizens of Storybrooke would have been convinced Regina Mills could care for no one.

But apparently this soldier was an exception to that rule.

A thought sprung to mind as she watched Henry play with a wooden toy car, alternating between driving it and placing it in his mouth. "Henry?" She called as she folded the letter carefully, mindful of the wet spot on it before tucking it under her arm. "Would you like to help Mommy write a letter?"

His single-toothed grin was her only confirmation, so picking her son up under his arms, she carried him into her office and pulled out her best stationary.

"Private," August greeted as Emma entered the bunk area after returning from rifle practise.

"Sergeant." Emma saluted him and stood at attention.

He said nothing for a long while and just allowed Emma to stand stock still. With a knowing smirk, he pulled a letter out from his pocket and tucked it into the crook of Emma's elbow. "At ease, soldier."

She glanced down when he left abruptly, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw a letter from Regina Mills. She didn't want to get excited at seeing the perfectly crafted penmanship inked onto the envelope, but she couldn't stop the pleased smirk from seeing another letter addressed to her. Holding it tightly between her hands, she cleared past the rest of the bunks where the rest of her squad were relaxing.

In the corner, August had started up a game of cards with a couple of other men. A few others were heading out of the room to make quick phone calls back home, while others still had already turned in for the night. Emma, however, eagerly reached her cot and sat cross-legged, barely waiting to situate herself before she tore into the envelope as if it were a Christmas present.

The past two months may have left her lonely, but all that was swept away by this new letter her eyes devoured.

December 15 2001

Private Swan,

I am so sorry for an incredibly long delay in replying to you. Your letter fell behind my table, but it seemed my son took it for food and found it. Perhaps his mischievous side has its benefits, after all.

I admit, I am shocked to hear that mine is the first letter you've received. To make up for such a delay and perhaps to further brighten up your day, how about allowing my son the honour of sending you your second? He's quite talented, don't you think?

Emma furrowed her brow at the short letter, a little disappointed at its length, but what was she expecting, really? A novel? She barely knew the woman. She turned the page in her investigation to find a plethora of colourful crayon scribbles with no rhyme or reason to them, and a grin instantly filled Emma's face. The scribbles took up nearly the entirety of the page except for a small space in the corner where Regina's handwriting boasted From Henry and Regina.

She soaked up every coloured line, tilting her head in different direction as if studying an abstract painting. To be honest, it was one of the best works of art she had ever seen, though that may have been because it was meant specifically for her. Gone was the image of some grey-haired mayor with some out of control teen. The writer behind the letter became more and more tangible in Emma's mind. No, she didn't have any visual to work off from, but she felt the concern in the mysterious woman's letter from being MIA, and the familial bond between her and her son. Emma had once thought that just having the first letter from Regina was all she could ask for, but even at this second one, she could feel herself already getting addicted to the feeling of waiting for a letter from Maine.

It kick start her pulse and made Emma feel lighter. Where she once went through her every day routine with no qualms, now she couldn't want wait to write back to Regina.

Giving the letter another thorough read, Emma leaped off her bed, letter in hand, and borrowed paper and a pen from a neighbouring bunk mate before she set off for a quiet place to reply.

December 19 2001

Hi Regina,

You've got a little Picasso on your hands there. I should save his letter for when he becomes a famous artist one day. I'll be one of the lucky few to have a Henry-original. How old is he anyway?

And it's okay about the letter getting misplaced. I get it. There's no rush or obligation or anything. It was really nice to hear from you again though. It's also a good thing you've also got a detective there too. Or a food critic as it appears.

In case Henry manages to eat all the paper in your house before Christmas, have a happy holidays.

Emma Swan

Regina removed her reading glasses off the bridge of her nose, a small smile gracing her lips as she examined the letter in thought. If she was Emma's only form of correspondence, Regina was willing to bet the soldier hadn't had many Christmases to look forward to in the past. The indifferent voice in the back of Regina's mind told her that this Emma Swan was on the bottom of her list of priorities, especially with Christmas being three days away, but the louder, more compassionate side of her that rarely made itself known to anyone except for Henry reminded her of what the past ten Christmases had been like since her parents' deaths.

Regina knew loneliness. She knew want, and yearning, and need. This Christmas would be the first of hopefully many that she was excited for solely because of the sleeping baby nestled in reindeer-printed pj's in his crib. She could only imagine what Emma was going through, training for a war that was not her own, isolated from anyone she could even remotely call a friend.

Perhaps it was Henry who softened Regina's heart since her adoption of him, or maybe, just once, the feared Mayor of Storybrooke was beginning to feel empathy for someone other than herself, but whatever the reason, Regina tucked the letter into her pocket for safe keeping, meaning to stash it away with Emma's previous letters, and fired up her computer to do a little searching.

A loud thud sounded as a soldier on mail duty dropped a small box in front of Emma, shaking the tinsel that still littered the table from the makeshift Christmas party that had happened three days prior for the soldiers who weren't lucky enough to be sent home for the holidays. She leaned away from the table, just barely moving her tray away in time before the box could drop on it and stared up questioningly at the soldier. "What the hell, man?"

He shrugged. "I just deliver the mail." He walked away pulling along the mail cart, tossing soldiers their mail with little grace.

Emma rolled her eyes but pulled the box toward her, replacing it with her tray. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise to find the package to be from Regina.

August whistled from across Emma. "She get you that?"

Emma could only nod as she fought to school her features despite the raging urge to blush. She plucked the envelope taped carefully to the top of the box, feeling the embossed snowflakes on the lip of the paper before easing her finger under the flap. A bright red card peaked out from inside, and when Emma pulled it out carefully, a cartoon snowman with his arm around a reindeer was displayed on the cover. Her smile was prominent then and only continued to grow when Emma opened the card to find Merry Christmas! written in Regina's script rather than the generic font typed cards usually boasted. The crayon lettering of Henry's name that Regina no doubt helped him write was printed just as large as the message itself, and the scribbles on the left side of the card told Emma that Henry had left her another little present. "Apparently Henry did," Emma answered August, standing from her spot at the table, balancing her tray on the box as she carried it with her.

"Who's Henry?" August furrowed her brow.

"Her son." Emma turned from the table, already heading out of mess hall.

"You're friends with her son?" He called after her, but the words fell on deaf ears as Emma deposited her dinner tray on a trash receptacle and nearly jogged out the hall.

Emma sat on her bunk with goodies littered all around her. Spitz sunflower seeds nestled in between two boxes of Sweet N Salty granola bars. A clear bag filled with miscellaneous items like a mini sewing kit, a new toothbrush, travel sized hand sanitizer, and Chapstick sat in Emma's lap.

Emma had never gotten a care package before, never mind a gift meant specifically for her in mind rather than obligatory presents from foster parents to show their generosity to her social worker. She had pulled each item out of the box with such care, one would think there was gold hidden within them.

Gratitude flooded Emma's senses, and a sense of deep awe struck her that this near stranger had cared enough, for Emma of all people, not only to continue writing to her, but to send her something for the holidays. It may not have meant much to Regina, but it meant the world to Emma.

Her current object of attention was the letter she found stashed at the bottom with her rank and name scrawled on it in Regina's script. She nearly abandoned all the items she had taken out in her haste to open and read the letter.

December 23 2001

Private Swan,

I realize this may not be arriving to you as quickly as I would like. The postal office said it would be useless to send it express since it would still have to be sorted with the hundreds of mail incoming to your camp, but it was worth a try.

Henry picked out the card and the flavour of sunflower seeds. I hope you enjoy the Cracked Pepper, though I tossed in the salted ones for you just in case.

I was uncertain as to what to send. I researched some wish lists for troops, and it said those are some things the average soldier likes. I hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries or making you feel uncomfortable with this gift of sorts. I just know how unusual the holidays feel when isolated.

And to answer your question, Henry is eight months. He's only learned to crawl a month ago, but the speed that he possesses would have you think he's been crawling since birth. We're still working on the walking and talking though.

In the event this letter doesn't arrive in time, I hope you and your troop had a happy and safe Christmas.

I hope you have a good New Year as well, Private Swan.

Sincerely,

Regina Mills

December 28 2001

Hi,

Thank you so much for the gifts. You really have no idea how much I appreciate them. You didn't have to go to the trouble at all on doing that. Seriously. Thank you.

Tell Henry I love the sunflower seeds and the card. I have it taped up on my wall beside his artwork.

And you're not overstepping any boundaries. It was probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I wish I could give something to you in return. Wow, I just realized I don't even really know what you like. I don't suppose you'd like a Swiss Army knife?

I'm kidding. Totally kidding. Pretty sure I couldn't send it out anyway.

But really, if there's ever anything I can do to repay your kindness, I will.

So, and you don't have to answer at all, but how come you know what lonely Christmases feel like?

You know, when I got your first letter, you were nothing like I had imagined. Not that I even have a good grasp on you now, but still. I thought your kid was a teen, and now that I know he's a baby, well that's close enough right?

I grew up with a few foster siblings, and it's crazy seeing babies grow up. They do it so fast. One day they can't even sit up by themselves and the next thing you know they're hiding in cabinets trying to scare the crap out of you. I highly suggest safety locks.

What do you think his first word is going to be? Is he closer to "Mama" or "Dada"?

I hope your town isn't causing you too much trouble.

Good luck in the new year too.

Emma

January 6 2002

Dear Private Swan,

It was no hindrance at all. You'll be happy to know that Henry drooled excessively once I told him you enjoyed his selections. Yes, drool is cause for celebration.

You would be correct to assume that I have no need for an army knife. If I possessed that, I would be the closest thing to a mob boss in Storybrooke. As you can tell, my town is flourishing with crime. Aside from work and Henry, I generally spend my time cooking and reading. Generic, perhaps, but relaxing nonetheless.

I suppose I did out myself on that one. It's not an interesting tale, mind you. My mother was distant, and I lost both my mother and father at quite a young age, so I guess we're in the same boat when it comes to not quite having a family. That is until Henry came along. I hope Mama is his first word since it's just he and I right now. Right now it's just raspberries and babbling as he attempts to talk. The doctors say he's developing normally though and that children grow at their own pace.

I appreciate the tip, though I'm sure I may have beaten you to it. Nearly everything is covered in puzzle mat paddings, there are gates everywhere, and more than once I ran late to a meeting simply because the lock mechanism on it was too difficult to pry open. It took my town's Sheriff nearly an entire day to set it up to my standards. There's no harm in being cautious of children's safety.

Happy new year, Ms. Swan.

Sincerely,

Regina Mills

Regina curled the final 's' of her surname as she signed the letter, giving it one final look over before she folded it and inserted it in an envelope. She made a mental note to purchase more envelopes when she noticed her supply was running low just as the sound of Henry's pitchy cry sounded through the baby monitor. She quickly jotted down her address and Emma's base camp before setting it on her desk to be mailed out later on that day.

As she left her home office to attend to Henry, Regina was unaware that she had made a new, and arguably her first, friend in Private Emma Swan. She had no idea how often in the coming months she would frequent the post office for new stamps and envelopes as she would be sharing tales of Henry's growth, revealing personal stories of her youth, and being a confidant to Emma when the days got too tiring or when the fear of being shipped to Iraq caught up with her. As Regina lifted Henry out of his crib, pressing a kiss and rouging his chubby cheek, she laid him on the change table, blissfully unaware that after three years of correspondence, she and Emma would finally meet.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: Thank you all so much for the great response! For those of you that had read the first chapter when I originally posted, I updated it with a bit more accuracy for Emma. She was originally a technician but she's now infantry. It doesn't take away from the whole plot, but it does give a bit more info on Emma's military life. I encourage you to re-read it, but it's not absolutely necessary. Again, big thanks to tjemd, RedReader1, and Jules-Day for pointing that out. Again, there's probably gonna be inaccuracies. This chapter is 98% letters, so there will be time jumps that aren't shown - no way was I going to skim over three years of their burgeoning relationship. I hope you guys like it!

January 12 2002

Hey,

Haha I hope him drooling isn't your ultimate decision maker when it comes to deciding whether to raise the taxes of your town. If you do that then you'll definitely be the ultimate crime boss.

I think the perks of being here is that I get to eat pretty good food since I'm not much of a cook myself. Growing up I used to just stock up on Mr. Noodles and hide them in my stuff. It's a good thing I know how to heat water. I like reading too. I didn't bring any books up here with me, but the last thing I read was Stephen King. Read any good books lately?

I'm sorry about your parents, but I'm glad you have Henry now. He sounds like an angel, even with the spit up. I bet Santa was extra nice to him for Christmas.

Can I just say that you must have some power if you can get the sheriff to come in and baby-proof your house? The people must love you.

Hope you're doing well.

Emma

January 16 2002

Private Swan,

My, my, if I'm not mistaken I suspect you think me crooked. Oh the audacity.

Stephen King novels appear to be something we have in common. I was worried I would have to take an interest in army knives. I've recently finished Different Seasons though it has taken quite a few months what with Henry and all. I suppose the last thing I truly read was Green Eggs and Ham. Henry enjoys the colours in Dr. Seuss books. And the voices I make for the characters. He is particularly fond of my Lorax impersonation.

Santa may have went a little overboard. Most of the things he received are now in storage since he can't play with them yet. Though he's taken significantly with the boxes they came in.

I don't know about them loving me, but he didn't object. Perhaps you're right in thinking I'm a crime boss.

I wish you well, Ms. Swan.

Sincerely,

Regina Mills

February 4 2002

Hi Regina,

I'm doing okay. It's tiring most days, but I like reading your letters.

That is awesome that Henry is standing on his own! Geez, wasn't the kid just crawling around like yesterday? You might need higher gates if the kid turns out to be a climber. Soon he's gonna start walking and talking and then he's going to hit the double digits and then starting high school and driving and dating. Well. Good luck with that!

I'm kidding, he will be your baby boy forever.

So does the mayor of Storybrooke have a string of dates lined up for Valentine's Day? Or do you and Henry's dad do something small on your own?

From,

Emma

February 10 2002

Private Swan,

You must be wanting to give me a heart attack. Henry growing up? That's absurd. But yes, he was crawling one day and next thing I know he's pulled himself up with the coffee table and is taking tentative steps along it. We've been working on walking on his own, but as soon as his clutch is gone he sinks to his knees and scurries away. I have no idea how toddlers crawl around on their knees all day. Henry insists I join him at his level, and I'm sorely regretting my hardwood flooring.

Henry is actually adopted, so I very much doubt I'll be spending time with his biological father. I never did do much for the holiday. Perhaps you've found someone to share it with at base?

Henry and I did indulge in some cake for my birthday last week, so I suppose that counts for something.

Sincerely,

Regina Mills

February 17 2002

Hi,

It was your birthday and you didn't tell me? Happy birthday! I hope you and Henry had a good day together. I wish I could give you a present or an army knife or something. What would you want if you could have anything?

God, no. Valentine's Day is not for me. Not yet anyway.

I had an inkling that was the case but I wasn't sure. I was in foster care myself for forever, and I know how much it means to a kid when they get adopted. You're pretty awesome, you know that? What made you want to adopt?

Emma

March 1 2002

Private Swan,

Awesome? That's a word that isn't generally associated with me. It's appreciated nonetheless. I've always wanted to be a mother, and I had been engaged once, but it ended quite tragically. It was an easy decision to want to adopt, and I never regretted it regardless of the midnight feedings and the teething. Henry's my world.

I used to horseback ride in my childhood with my father. I haven't gone back since his death. I know it's unrealistic of me to wish someone back from the grave, but that would be the closest thing that could happen in actuality that I would wish as a birthday gift - to go back to the stables.

I think Henry is beginning to say his first word. It's a string of M's so far, but he's close. He'll be turning one in April. Planning a birthday party for a one-year old is more stressful than handling a town's budget. Angry citizens are starting to look more attractive than deciding on a Reptile Man or a Magic Show.

Stay well.

Sincerely,

Regina Mills

March 12 2002

Hi,

You know I'm not always gonna be a Private forever. I'm gonna get promoted soon. You can call me Emma if you wanted. No pressure.

Horses. Wow. Some kids skip rope. Others play sports. And you ride horses. Why am I not surprised? My city girl is showing, sorry. I saw some of those cop horses in New York a couple times when I was 14, and they are totally bigger in real life.

Is it weird that I'm feeling secondhand oldness as the kid gets older? He's turning one already? Damn.

Emma

April 16 2002

Dear Emma,

It's Henry's birthday today. It won't be when this letter arrived to you, but I just wanted to share that with you. He drew you another picture. Red seems to be his favourite colour.

What's more exciting is that he said his first word just the other day. I told him we had a letter from you, and he babbled for a moment but said "Mama"! Now that's all he'll say. I love it.

I hope you're doing well.

Sincerely,

Regina

April 20 2002

Holy crap, that's awesome! Look at the little guy all growing up. Sure he wasn't trying to say my name? I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I hope you got that on tape or something. I've added his picture to my wall of fame. The kid is showing some progress. You really should put him in some art classes when he grows up. Did he end up liking that clown you ordered or did he freak out like every child naturally does? I warned you. Clowns are scary. You've read It. You should know.

I attempted to draw him in the corner blowing out his candles. It's actually not good. Do me a favour and burn that corner of the letter when you get it. Leave no evidence behind of my lack of artistic skills.

Tell Henry I say happy birthday.

Emma

April 26 2002

Dear Emma,

He appreciated the gesture. I'm sorry, soldier, but I'm going to have to keep your drawing. You never know when blackmail may come in handy. Don't attempt your crime boss comment. It's getting old, dear.

You were right. The children were terrified of the clown. Henry clung to me and remained that way all party. It also didn't help the man hired to dress up for the party was thoroughly hungover by the time he arrived. His clown-like tendencies were quite evident in real life. I assumed his personality would transfer well for a child's birthday. Clearly I was wrong. I will not be making that mistake again. Magic show it is next year.

On the bright side, Henry couldn't stop saying my name. Small victories, I suppose. However, with his new teeth he's become a biter. His favourite chew toy: my finger.

Take care,

Regina

May 31 2002

Hi,

I'm sorry I'm taking so long to answer your letters. I'm doing okay. It's just the days are pretty exhausting.

I found out some news the other day. I'm getting deployed to the Middle East next March or so. I'm pretty sure it's happening. I'll be there for a year. Hopefully less than that.

But you could still write. If you wanted. I mean you're not like obligated to keep writing now I just mean that you could still contact me.

And don't worry about the election. Your people love you, remember? I'd vote for you.

Emma

June 7 2002

Emma,

There's no need to apologize for that. How are you handling that news? I understand that it's expected, but it can be surreal, I suppose.

Of course I'll still write to you, Emma.

I will let you know if Mayor can be dropped from my title.

Regina

June 12 2002

Hi,

It is, I guess. But it's what I've been training for, right? Learn to fight the bad guys and protect the country. After everything that's happened though, it sounds like a full out war.

I'll be okay though. My troop is one of the best, so we'll be home before you know it. And when I get back, I'll be on leave for a bit. August is already talking about visiting Thailand. He said he's got some friends there. I might tag along.

And it doesn't matter your title. You'll always be Regina to me.

Emma

August 4 2002

Emma,

Henry's sick. The doctor believes it to be a severe case of the stomach flu, but I've never seen him come down with something quite like this. I don't know what to do. He hasn't had much of an appetite, and all he wants to do is cuddle and sleep, and that's only when he isn't relieving his stomach. He's pale, and he's burning up, but he keeps complaining about being cold, and there's only so much I can do to help alleviate the pain for him. He's finally settled down to sleep now, but he's still not well.

The doctor suggests locating his birth parents to see if perhaps there's underlying illnesses he may have inherited, but it was a closed adoption, and that could take weeks to bypass.

I don't know what else I can do for him. He's so small, and he's so sad, and watching him upset makes me feel so helpless. He's all I have. I can't lose him.

What if it was me? What if I wasn't giving him a proper diet or I did something to hinder his development? What if he needs a blood transfusion and I can't give it to him because I'm not his real mother?

I can hear him fussing. I hope you're doing well.

August 10 2002

Hey, it's gonna be okay, Regina. You got a tough little soldier on your hands, and if god forbid it's anything worse than a stomach virus, he's going to pull through.

You raised him to be like that. To be the best little kid out there, and you raised him and gave him a home, and love, and food, and more love. You're his mother, Regina. You don't need DNA to prove that.

Please keep me updated on him. And Regina? You're not alone in this. You're an amazing mom, and I know you're scared, but when he's crying and sick, he's calling out for you. Don't forget that.

Emma

August 19 2002

Emma,

Henry's better now. He caught a couple overlapping viruses that was too much to handle at once, but he's been better for a few days now. He's back to hiding under tables and sneaking sweets.

Thank you - for listening, so to speak. I lost my head for a moment there. Who knew being a mother came with near panic-attacks on the regular? It's instances like these that make me want to protect Henry from anything that hurts him, but then I remember how my mother did something similar and it didn't quite work out.

But I appreciate you being there and offering advice. I wasn't sure who to turn to. The doctors weren't providing much of an answer.

Take care,

Regina

August 31 2002

Hi,

God, that's so good to hear. You freaked me out there for a moment there. Waiting for a letter back was more agonizing than waiting in line to see Fight Club. Have you been turning a blind eye when he has his hand in the cookie jar lately?

And hey, no sweat. I wasn't lying or anything. You are the kid's mom.

You don't have any friends to talk to? Any other moms at daycare or a senator or something? Not that I'm complaining or anything. I just imagine a lady like you would have been the popular girl at my high schools.

Tell Henry I say he's a trooper.

Emma

October 10 2002

Emma,

I'm sending this early in the hopes that it reaches you at the appropriate time. Happy birthday, Emma. I remember you saying you enjoyed watching the movie, but I found the book and thought you might enjoy reading it. Perhaps I'll watch Fight Club myself and see the differences. Henry picked out the sunflower seeds and energy bars again. He insisted on Dill flavour, most definitely because the packaging is green, but I added an extra package of your favourite.

He also included a storybook. I finally took him to the stables - a local farm actually. He thoroughly enjoyed it. I thought he would be frightened of the animals, but as soon as I set him down, he was attempting to capture the loose chickens. He's drawn you all the animals we saw and refused my help with the drawing. His exact words: "Henny do it." I fear for my sanity during his teenage years.

Despite your detailed instructions, I did not attempt to change my car's tire. Yes, yes, you can say I didn't try, but who owns a car jack? No, I would much rather leave that to the professionals.

I did, however, end up converting the spare bedroom into a playroom for Henry. You're right. There is something therapeutic about painting. You'll be happy to note that I did indeed wind up with paint on my hands and face, though. I'm not as perfect as you assume. How that paint landed on me when I was careful and precise I'll never know.

I hope you enjoy your birthday, Emma.

Regina

December 26 2002

Hi Regina,

I was going through our old letters, and did you realize my handwriting got progressively better? The plus side of snail mail, huh?

Thank you, again, for the package. It means a lot to me that you've sent something two Christmases in a row. That's crazy, isn't it? We've been at this for a year. It's nice.

We had a pretty good feast here. August and Neal started up this giant Christmas carol sing along in mess hall, and we all got to relax for the day. It was back to training today though, and I'm really regretting that second helping of stuffing.

Speaking of food, I have to try this famous lasagna and apple turnover I keep hearing about. You cannot mention it multiple times in letters and expect me not to want it. I'm even at the point where I will accept it through mail.

That gala sounds like a good time. Look at Storybrooke's finest celebrating the holidays together. I don't know how you do that all day long - mix and mingle. That's clearly the reason why you're the mayor and I am not.

Thanks again, Regina. And have a safe holidays.

Emma

January 19 2003

Emma,

I've discovered why Henry was feeling ill. We've caught the chicken pox, and yes, I mean we. I never had it as a child; my mother was strict and preferred me in her care rather than daycare, and now I see why. The doctors assure me it is not shingles, and judging from my Internet search of those symptoms I'm praying to god that it's not. Even now I'm writing with my gloves on because if Henry isn't allowed to scratch then neither am I. He caught me one day. If you haven't been scolded by a 21-month old then I advise you to keep it that way.

How are you, Emma? You sounded despondent in your last letter. I know you'll be deployed soon, but you are a very good soldier. Remember your shooting scores ranked the highest, and you've been training during your downtime. You are ready for this. And you will come home. I know you will.

I'm proud of you, Emma. Only a handful of people are doing what you do, and though it can be terrifying, what you do matters.

Promise me you'll be safe, though. Perhaps I will reveal my secret turnover recipe at your homecoming.

Take care,

Regina

January 28 2003

Hi,

Thank you. For that pep talk there. I really needed that. The reality of the situation is just kind of catching up on me. I can't really say much about my deployment. There's been more and more talk about it, but you know how people can get.

And I will. I'll be safe.

I am good, though. It helps coming back to camp and finding your letter sitting on my bed. This may be one of my last ones before I ship out. I don't know what it's going to be like in Iraq or how frequently I'll get your letter or how often I can send one out. I'll try though. I promise.

I laughed out loud reading the first bit of your letter. Be careful or Henry might ground you. Is there a little mayor in his future? That totally brightened up my day. If Henry is anything like you, and by anything I mean hard-assed mayor (in the best way) I can picture the kid with sock puppets on his hands with his hands on his hips, and little lotion dots over his spots, and a tiny little glare on his face. That kid is adorable. Imagine if you start dating, the interrogation he's gonna give your significant other is gonna be the best thing ever. Film that for me.

I know you said it wasn't shingles, but just follow up with the doctor every now and then. I heard adult chicken pox is really bad, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Who else would give me the secret apple turnover recipe then? I'm kidding. Seriously, just make sure you and Henry are okay. Have you tried sock puppet gloves? The TV says they work so it must be a good idea.

Oh! Happy birthday! I think I'll make it in time this year so that this letter will get there in time. Can I just say that my mind was blown to find out we're only nine years apart? You're a mayor, and a mom, and you're really awesome, you know that? See. I've used that word to describe you multiple times so it must be true. I hope you have a good birthday, Regina. High five the kid for me.

Emma

P.S. Thank you for everything, Regina. If I don't get back to you, I just want you to know that I really appreciate this year you've spent including me in your life. There's no way I could ever repay you for that. Your letters, your gifts, Henry's drawings, they mean so much to me, and they always helped to get me through the day.

February 5 2003

You're acting as if you're not going to return. Don't talk like that, Emma. You'll be home soon. I know, I can't promise that, but you will be. This time next year you and August will be home visiting his friends.

Thank you very much for the birthday greeting. I'm pleasantly surprised you remembered. That was very thoughtful, and I truly appreciate it. I did manage to receive your letter the day after, so you made it on time.

Our spots are clearing up, so it's safe to assume it wasn't anything worse than chicken pox. You weren't too far off from your vision of him though minus the sock puppets. I gave those a try after reading your letter, and now I'm finding it difficult to remove them from him. He now has a whole collection and insists on sleeping with them. I highly doubt I will ever get back into dating. Henry is the only man I need in my life, thank you very much. He should be wary when he begins dating and be aware of all the hours of footage I have of him refusing to wear a diaper and running amuck. Now you've gone and had me wondering what his teenage years will consist of. Not appreciated, Ms. Swan.

Well, if you deem me awesome then it must be true. I have the Certified Emma Swan Stamp of Awesome Approval. Did I get that right? Henry has sufficiently been high fived. He sends his hugs - "Hug Emma, Mommy?"

Take care, Emma.

Regina

April 1 2003

Hi,

I'm here. I'm not injured. Well, I got some scrapes here and there, but I'm okay. I wanted to send you a letter before we left, but it sprung up on us. We sort of just woke up one day and they told us to pack, so here we are. I'm sorry I worried you, but I'm okay. It's pretty ridiculously hot here, so if I don't sweat out my body weight I'll be good.

How are you and the little man? Is he using the big boy potty yet? Tell him Emma says happy birthday.

I'll be safe. I promise.

Emma

April 22 2003

Emma,

You have no idea how relieving it was to see your letter in my mailbox. My apologies for the second letter. I was just worried when it had been a while since I heard from you, and I saw on the news of the invasion, and my mind went rampant. I realize our communication won't be as frequent as we're used to, but I'm so glad you've landed safely and that you're okay. Please have your scrapes looked at. You may think it nothing, but you don't know what type of infection or bacteria you could pick up from an unclean wound. It's better to be safe than sorry.

I don't think Henry will be using the toilet anytime soon. His favourite word right now is "no." All the books I've read say that every child is different and they will learn at their own pace. They advise not to push your child into something they're not ready for. However, I don't think they were prepared for a child like Henry who prefers to wear his big boy briefs and consistently wets the bed. The books also say it's helpful if your child watches the parent of the same sex go to the washroom, but you understand my predicament on that one. I hope I'm not hindering his growth or development because he doesn't have a father.

I'm doing better now. I'm looking forward to when it isn't constantly raining so that I can go outside and get some gardening done. You should see how beautiful my flowers are when they're in bloom. When I was a child, my father and I used to picnic under my Honey Crisp tree the first day it was dry and bright enough. Those are the apples I use for my turnovers, so guard that secret with your life.

Henry sends his love and his thanks.

Stay safe, Emma.

Regina

May 31 2003

Hi Regina,

I got looked at. No infections or diseases or bacteria. Don't worry. It's gonna take a lot more than some burns and bruises to take me down.

Ah, he's hit the terrible twos, has he? I don't envy you for that. You're not hindering his growth. I knew a couple of single moms growing up who had little boys who turned out amazing. Except the one that grew up to be an axe murderer... I'm kidding! Seriously though, when Henry's ready, he'll let you know, and you're not gonna learn that from a book or an Internet search.

Did you just reveal your secret ingredient so soon? Well then. I think now the only thing left to do is to actually try this turnover. Are you busy sometime next April? And I suggest you go apple picking before then to welcome my arrival.

Stay awesome, Regina.

Emma

July 20 2003

Emma,

Thank you for the postcard. It looks like a beautiful city despite the reasons behind your presence there.

This was the best postcard Storybrooke had to offer. I'll have to have a talk with someone to photograph better scenery and landmarks. It's our clock tower. It hasn't worked for as long as I can remember, but it's part of our town history.

Stay safe.

Regina

August 13 2003

The kid went to the bathroom by himself! What? That is amazing! Tell him I appreciate the drawing of him on the toilet. Purple hair, huh? I think the kid is trying to tell you something. His inner rebel is showing early.

I found this really neat keychain. I thought you might like it. Well I didn't find it, I bought it off some kids selling in the market. I think they made it themselves, so it's cute. If it didn't get confiscated on its way to you, the bead colours are their flag. I know it's not much, but that's the start of me making it up to you for all those birthday and Christmas gifts you've sent to me.

Emma

August 31 2003

Emma,

Thank you for the gift. I love it. Henry has already taken to playing with it when he steals my keys from the front table. Lately he's been taking them from the front table, and if it weren't for the jangling of him, I would never find them. His most notable hiding places, however, has been the vegetable crisper and inside his toy chest.

Henry and I will be travelling to New York for a week tomorrow. I haven't taken him out of Storybrooke, and to be honest I haven't left the town myself since I adopted him, so I'm quite anxious to leave town. I can't remember the last time I had a vacation. I packed Henry's suitcase only to find that he removed all his clothing and replaced them with his toys.

As a former resident of the big city, do you have any suggestions for sightseeing activities? The itinerary I planned for the week may be missing some highlights.

Stay safe.

Regina

October 13 2003

August got hurt. Really badly. I don't even know how that went down, it all happened so fast. We were driving, just doing a patrol, and it wasn't different from the patrols we do any other day, and then there's just this explosion and screaming and bullets flying and next thing I see is August on the ground and he's red and his leg - god it was bad before but now it's just. I don't know. Me and Neal covered for him and we got him out of there, but what if it's too late?

He got looked at. The doctors are checking over him right now, but he's been in the infirmary for the last day and I don't know what's gonna happen to him. He looked really bad. He's like the only family I have. I should have done something. I should have warned him. I should have seen it coming. He's the better leader, he's the better fighter, and what's gonna happen if he's gone?

I'm sorry I don't mean to throw all this on you. I just don't know who to talk to right now. I usually talk to August but I can't. What if something happens to him? Neal says he's gonna be okay, but what if he's not? They train you for every situation and you're supposed to know every move, but it's not the same when it actually happens. When people die in front of you and you just have to keep going like nothing happened. Like these people that you're living with for years and years aren't worth anything when they're shot or worse. You're supposed to push it down and follow orders but god it was August.

October 30 2003

Emma I am so sorry. I truly hope that he's okay and that he recovers. If there's anything I can do - perhaps I can contact his hometown or any friends or family for him. He may need extensive medical attention. Maybe there's strings I can pull or anything.

Emma, I know you are scared right now, and I know this may get to you too little too late, but you are not alone. August is your family, yes, but there are others who care about you as well. Your team, even Henry and myself. We would all care if anything were to happen to you, so please do not do anything rash in your state.

You'll be home soon, Emma. Take care of yourself, and be safe.

Regina

November 12 2003

Hey,

August lost his leg. They sent him state-side to get looked at. He's probably gonna get honourably discharged. But I got to visit him before they shipped him home. He's dealing. But he's alive. He was joking about getting a prosthetic and how he could still kick my ass with it. But he's dealing.

You know, I don't know how I could ever have dealt with this, or deal with this actually, if I didn't get to write to you. I know that puts loads of pressure on you, and like, you could back out at any time, but it's nice to talk to someone in the real world. It makes me forget, for the few minutes I get to read your letters or for the time I spend writing to you, how exhausting the day is and how mentally draining it is. It's like a don't-ask-don't-tell policy around here, and it's just nice to know that the world doesn't suck when I talk to you.

I'm doing okay. It's been about month, and it's - honestly? I get kind of freaked out every time we go on patrol. It makes me more vigilant. My senses are heightened. I can anticipate attacks a hell of a lot better, but there's this niggling feeling in the back of my head that we just narrowly avoided something. I kind of took over August's place. It's not too different it's just, I'm now responsible for the lives of these ten men and women and I have to make sure they get home and I couldn't even do that for August. But I'm okay.

I got your birthday present. I gotta say, seeing a Swisstool in the box made me laugh, but thank you so much. You got it engraved and everything. I've never gotten a personalized gift before. I've seen it for a while now, but I get how you can get the people in your town to do what you want. If you're like this to a stranger, then the town must be your second baby.

Four moths and counting.

Emma

November 22 2003

Emma,

I'm glad to hear he's alive. I imagine it will be a difficult transition, but he has you as support when you get back home. I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing you again. I understand the pressures of added responsibilities. Though nowhere near your level, becoming a mother was a terrifying experience. You're suddenly responsible for this life. It's overwhelming. But they wouldn't have chosen you if they didn't believe you could do it. I would choose you to lead, and that is saying something, Ms. Swan. I am a Mayor after all.

It's comical you think me saintly. Many others would disagree with you. I try to keep my personal life and my work life separate, and I do that rather successfully. Alas, the reason why there are few friends in my life. I'm pleased you enjoyed your gift.

Be careful and stay safe.

Regina

December 24 2003

Regina,

I know it's been well over a month since you heard from me. It's been pretty crazy. I'm okay though. A good kind of crazy though. Actually we all kind of got a gift. I don't know if you watch wrestling, but WWE came over and put on a show for us, and I got a hug from Torrie Wilson and we talked for a bit when they were visiting around the camp. This won't get to you in time, but in the event you're able to get old episodes of Raw or Smackdown, maybe you'll catch my face.

And for the record, you do have a friend. Me.

Merry Christmas, Regina. Give the little man a hug from me.

Emma

January 15 2004

Emma,

I didn't expect such an establishment to honour the troops like that, but that's a splendid idea. That gives me ideas to encourage Storybrooke to be more proactive in their support. Unfortunately I didn't catch the program, but my reporter showed me a picture of her, and she's quite beautiful. I presume the rest of your camp are quite envious.

Henry sends multiple drawings this time. He's recently discovered Disney movies since he received Treasure Planet for Christmas. It isn't something I would have purchased for him, but I appreciate his enthusiasm for it. It's the older ones with the princesses in distress I hope he doesn't obsess over.

I hope you're well.

Regina

P.S. You were included in my few friends count.

March 29 2004

Hi!

Good news. I'm going home! Another division is making their circulation and they're basically just sending us home until they need us again. God, I've been waiting for this day for so long. I can't wait to see August. I can't wait drive my car again. And food! God, I've been craving fast food for so long.

Thank you, Regina, for making these last few years bearable. It'll be nice to have some relaxation.

Don't forget you're awesome.

Emma

Emma quickly jotted her name and sealed the envelope just as the final mail call was announced. She had dropped her letter in just in time before she navigated her way back to her own sector where the cot she had called home for the past year was bare once again. Gone were the drawings Henry had sent her and the few photographs she, August, and Neal had taken over the years. All her letters and gifts from Regina were packed safely away in her duffel. She worked quickly, anxious and excited, nervous that maybe if she didn't pack fast enough they would revoke her privilege of going home.

Home, Emma thought as she sat on her bed. She didn't have a place in her name other than her car, but the letters she sent to August told her that the blonde was welcome to stay with him in his Boston apartment. Maybe she would head there. Or maybe she would do a cross country trip, visiting the cities with just her and her car. She did have a month off after all. But as she thought back to the Storybrooke postcard that had once hung proudly on her wall, she wondered, maybe she could take a detour somewhere along the way.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: So I lied. This is looking to extend past three chapters, though how many for sure, I haven't decided yet. Thank you all so much for your reviews, favourites, and alerts! My email acted up, so I may have missed replying to a handful of you, but I appreciate all your support! I got this chapter written because I was avoiding my responsibilities as a graduating university student. I hope you guys enjoy their first meeting!

"Attention, passengers. It is currently 11:54 AM, and we will be arriving in Boston Logan International Airport in approximately fifteen minutes. Please return to your seats and prepare for landing."

The ding of the intercom woke Emma from her sleep, and within seconds she was alert, already taking inventory of her fellow passengers who were either making their way back to their seats or telling their children to put away their GameBoys. The baby three rows behind her had quieted down sometime an hour ago, and the middle aged woman seated beside her had finished off her third round of the rosary. The woman had claimed to always be a nervous flyer, but she was anxious now more than ever yet found solace in sitting beside Emma who had yet to change out of her uniform.

It was too late now, anyway. They'd be landing in a couple minutes. Emma inhaled a deep breath and stared out the window where the runway was coming into focus. A small smile tugged at her lips when she realized she hadn't been back to the city in years. She had racked up months of leave being on reserve, but it wasn't until she was deployed did she feel the need to use them. The break from constant vigilance was much needed, and her commanders were relieved when she opted on going home for a month.

The plane rocked as it landed making the agitated woman beside her clutch at Emma's wrist instinctively, but the soldier allowed the move, calming the woman down with a reassuring look. Within moments the speaker announced they had arrived and to exit the plane in an orderly fashion, thanking them for their business and hoping they had enjoyed their flight.

Emma stood and grabbed her carry on sack that held a few clothes, essentials like toiletries and documents, and her letters and gifts from Regina and Henry. If her luggage were to get lost there was no way in hell she'd have those placed out of her reach.

It was a lengthy process just getting to the terminal where August had agreed to meet her. Airports had locked down on their security, randomly inspecting certain passengers Emma noticed, but it helped that her uniform made the process just a tad bit quicker. Shouldering her sack and finding her duffel with relative ease, Emma marched toward the arrivals ramp, eyes peeled for the familiar scruffy haired brunette she had learned to call brother. Her eyes landed on a cardboard with SWAN written in August's messy scrawl. She picked up the pace when she saw August, holding up the sign in his lap as he sat in a wheelchair, his signature grin sporting his face.

"August," she called out and dropped her duffel beside his chair, leaning down to hug the man.

"You're off duty, soldier," the man quipped when she released him. He placed the cardboard on his lap and leaned over his chair to lift Emma's duffel on top of it too. "You can relax, you know?"

She shook her head and adjusted the rucksack on her back before taking the handle of his wheelchair. "How's everything? I thought you were getting a prosthetic."

He lifted the pant of his left leg to show the metal and plastic that was his new calf. "Still in rehab. It takes some getting used to. I wanted a wooden one, like a peg, you know? But I was told I'd look like a pirate."

Emma chuckled as they left the airport. "But you're okay?"

"Never better, kid."

The cab ride from the airport to Emma's storage locker where they had picked up her Volkswagen beetle to August's apartment had taken the better part of the afternoon. As soon as he rolled in, August was already asking if Emma wanted to order in as the blonde was dumping her duffel and rucksack at the base of the couch she'd be calling her bed for the next month.

Emma took in his apartment, simple in its furnishings with its brick walls and single bedroom and bathroom. The only alarming thing was the amount of beer bottles in the recycling bin by the garbage. "Did you have a party?" Emma asked directly, her arms crossed as she eyed August who was searching through take-out menus.

He turned his head to the recycling bin and didn't bash an eye turning back toward Emma. "I have my vices, right?"

"August-"

"Emma," he interrupted. "I'm getting help. Not just for my leg."

Her face remained impassive as they continued to read one another. Finally, the blonde raised a questioning eyebrow deeming his statement true. "Okay," she conceded quietly. "Is there anything I can do?"

He tossed the menus on the table between them. "You can pick dinner tonight."

Emma was out of her uniform and back into a tank top and jeans. Empty Chinese cartons littered the coffee table in front of her where they had decided to eat. August had laughed, saying he nearly did the same thing when he was discharged from the hospital. It took him months of rehab and cardio to lose the extra pounds he had gained from his overindulgence. She smirked and showed off her stomach, claiming that her toned abs had nothing to worry about.

Now she was sitting cross legged on the couch, the TV turned on to some evening drama Emma was unfamiliar with as she dug through her rucksack to find the bound letters and pictures from Storybrooke. They were organized by date as Emma shuffled through them to get to some of her favourites. Reading Regina's letters was her favourite bedtime story. Whether the woman was sharing some anecdote about Henry or whether she and Regina were sharing battle wounds stories with Regina admitting she had a scar of her own on her upper lip, Emma found she couldn't go to sleep without reading a few or soaking in Henry's drawings. It amazed her that she had kept up communication with the woman for nearly three years. The only other person she kept in touch with for that long was August, and that was only because she happened to be sent to his division.

Emma had never exchanged pictures with Regina, nothing more than a drawing from Henry or when Emma wanted to attempt her own artistry skills, so every night, she drifted off with images of women with various shades of brunette in some power suit that the First Lady would wear. Sometimes the mystery woman in her mind was relaxed in sweats and a sweater boasting some Storybrooke mascot as Emma imagined Regina to be one of those over-enthusiastic soccer moms. Emma's naturally curious side had wanted to ask Regina to send a picture, but the closest she got was asking the Mayor to describe herself. Regina hadn't asked one of her either, so Emma didn't want to push the boundaries on what she deemed to be already a good thing.

Reading those letters every night got Emma through some of the toughest, most loneliest nights of her life. For the first time in her twenty years of living, Emma felt as if someone cared for her, truly cared for her, and if there was anyway Emma could repay Regina for her kindness, she'd gladly do so. A thought sprung to her mind as she looked up to August who was out of his wheelchair and cautiously walking the length of the apartment, getting a feel for his new leg.

"Are you still okay?" Emma checked in.

He suppressed a wince and steadied himself on the wall before throwing a thumbs up.

"Do you have paper and an envelope?" Emma asked, already standing to retrieve it.

"For what?" August grunted, putting one foot in front of the other.

"I'm gonna write to Regina. Tell her I'm in Boston."

August snapped his head up at that and smirked. "Regina, huh? Did you two plan a date?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "We're just friends. I want her to know I'm safe. She gets worried sometimes."

"Oh really?" His grin grew even wider as he gave up on his walking for the time being and leaned against the kitchen counter. "You realize I was there when Mr. and Mrs. Johnson found out why the door was locked when Stephanie Cobalt was in your room, right?"

"That's beside the point," Emma huffed, leaning against the back of the couch.

"I don't think it is," he insisted. Moving minimally, August opened up his fridge door and tossed Emma a water bottle before opening up one for himself. "You should go visit her. You've been talking for what, two years?"

"Three," she muttered into her bottle. "And I can't just show up to Storybrooke uninvited."

"Why not? Is visiting this town invite only?" He set his bottle on the counter and resumed his walking, his steps more confident and only slightly less painful.

"It's rude," Emma insisted, though she couldn't help the little voice in her head that told her five years ago, Emma Swan would be all about breaking the rules and crashing places.

August shrugged. "Your loss. There's a notebook in the TV stand drawer."

Habit got Emma up at the crack of dawn. It also helped that August was making a lot of racket in his room as he worked to develop his upper body strength, but as soon as the first rays of the sun hit the horizon, Emma's eyes snapped open, and she was ready for the day. She had taken to running every morning, finding the local park and sprinting her way through it before returning to the apartment where August would break out some fibre cereal for the both of them. For the three days since Emma's arrival, she had dropped her friend off at physio before returning to the apartment and found herself at a stalemate. Her days were usually jam-packed with training or missions, but now that she was off duty, she had no idea how to fill her time. She had sent a letter to Regina the morning after her arrival saying she had landed in Boston safely, but without anything other than an address, Emma had no other way to contact Regina.

So Emma stayed at August's and did sit ups, push ups, and every type of work out she could in the cramped apartment. When the cabin fever set it, usually in the afternoon, Emma went out for some air, walked back to the park she had run through that morning and read the books Regina had sent to her until it was time to pick up August. By now she had read the novels three times over and found herself sitting on the bench, people watching. At least that's what she told August. In reality, she debated on finding Storybrooke, maybe finding Regina up in a phone book and actually hearing her voice for the first time. But she couldn't just show up. Could she?

Apparently she could since it wasn't until the fourth morning when Emma had returned from her run that August wheeled himself to the door to meet her. Her duffel was packed and her rucksack placed on top of it in the man's lap before dropping them at her feet. Emma opened her mouth to question him, her eyes widening at the fact that August seemed to be kicking her out. Wordlessly he presented the Storybrooke postcard Emma had taken to looking at every night then dangled her car keys in the air for her.

"Go," he said simply.

She was quick to retrieve the postcard but eyed her keys warily. "You have a doctor's appointment today."

"I've been getting there for months without a driver. Go." He tossed her the keys and assumed his authoritative voice. "That's an order, soldier."

The smirk played on his lips, but they continued to hold the silent staring contest, neither moving from their position and Emma still dripping with sweat. She was pretty sure August was a second away from pulling rank on her. Her heart, which had calmed on her arrival to the apartment, was now pounding in her ears. Badum-badum-badum.

Emma had seen bombs go off. She had had to use force to calm a rioting crowd. She witnessed her best friend fight for his life. Yet all of that seemed trivial with the mere thought of meeting Regina Mills.

The Welcome to Storybrooke sign was the only reason Emma knew she was heading in the right direction. She had been driving for hours, which wasn't necessarily a problem, but the long expanse of lonely road gave her the unnerving feeling that there was an ambush not too far away. She had to remind herself that she was on American soil, that she was home, and that she was safe. The derisive snort came out easily as she thought back to all those times in her youth where she wasn't safe. Soil didn't matter where people were concerned, that's for damn sure.

But people like Regina, she was different. Who could keep up with a jarhead for three years and get nothing out of it? Still, nerves got the better of her as an emerging town finally started to appear. She glanced down at the postcard on the passenger seat, eyeing the address she had come to memorize. 108 Mifflin Street, Storybrooke, Maine. Now where the hell was that?

She nearly slammed on the brakes when she saw the fabled clock tower, stuck in time as it permanently read 8:15. This is real, Emma thought. All the stories Emma heard, they weren't just stories in letters made up to entertain a homesick soldier. They were real events with real people, and Emma was about to meet them.

Training had taught her the best form of gathering intelligence was to investigate, so parking her car in front of the clock tower, Emma set out to explore the town.

The pawn shop just ahead had to be the one Regina was telling her about with the seedy man who tried to run against her for mayor. She peeked into the shop to see him behind the counter, conversing with a young brunette as he leaned on his cane. Judging by the smell of fried food wafting down the street, Emma was willing to bet that it was coming from the diner that Regina said had the best apple pancakes, though Regina would never tell the chef for fear of inflating her ego. She looked around briefly, wondering where the stables were before her rumbling stomach had another plan. Now was a good time as any to stop for a late lunch.

The bell jingled, signalling her entrance as Emma stepped into the diner. Almost as one, the patrons stopped what they were doing to gawk at the newcomer. Emma had to physically look down to make sure she was still dressed in her civvies. She knew the uniform drew attention, but out of it, she tended to blend in with the crowd. Now, however, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Must be that small town mentality.

"Hi!" A perky brunette with a streak of red in her hair came up to greet her, and just like that, the spell was over and Emma became just another face in the crowd. "One?"

"Yes," Emma nodded following the waitress to the counter.

She slid onto a stool and leaned on her forearms, using her peripherals to take in her location. The diner was something out of the 80's with its checkered linoleum tiling and its jukebox in the corner that was currently on its rotation of Karma Chameleon. It was clearly a place where everyone knew everyone - where teenagers came for their dates, friends met up at after school, and elderly sat to read the morning paper. It was nice. Homely.

"So," the brunette began standing opposite Emma. "What can I get you...?"

"Swan." Emma extended her hand. "Emma Swan."

"Ruby."

Emma shrugged out her hands. "I hear the apple pancakes are good, but I'm guessing you're not serving breakfast right now."

"Apple pancakes?" Ruby raised an intrigued eyebrow. "You wouldn't happen to know Mayor Mills, would you?"

"Yeah," Emma brightened and straightened in her chair. "Regina. I'm actually looking for Mifflin Street, do you know where I could find it?"

"You want to look for Mifflin," Ruby repeated as she pressed her pen to her lip and looked at Emma as if she were a martian. At Emma's nod, she shrugged and pointed out the door. "Yeah, just head north on Main, take a right on Brighton, and another right on Mifflin. You can't miss the house."

"Thanks," Emma smiled her appreciation before picking up a menu. "So what's good here?"

"My granny says I'm obligated to say everything," Ruby joked. "We make a mean cheeseburger, though."

Emma moaned at the thought. "I haven't had one of those in a while."

Ruby furrowed her brow. "Where are you from?"

"Boston," Emma shrugged.

Ruby laughed and shook her head, accepting the blonde's answer. "Then a cheeseburger coming up."

Emma licked at the dabble of ketchup that oozed from the burger and coated her finger. The last bite held between her index and thumb was more bacon, cheese, and beef than it was bun, and Emma was enjoying every second of it. So engrossed in her food that she didn't even mind when Ruby shook her head and laughed at how much Emma overly enjoyed her meal. The waitress had made it a point to talk to Emma when she wasn't filling an order, and Emma appreciated the company.

The last of the burger gone, Emma licked at her fingers, smacking her lips before wiping her hands and pushing the plate away. Her fries were devoured as was the milkshake she had ordered with it. It was still early on in her leave. She'd have time to work it off.

"Thanks, Ruby," Emma nodded and placed a few bills on the table to cover her meal and tip. She slid off the stool and took steps backwards as she made her way to the door. "So down Main, right on Brighton, and right-"

Emma felt a presence behind her just as the bell jingled signalling a new arrival. She whirled quickly, startling the newcomer, and had just enough time to grasp her firmly around the biceps and spin her further into the diner. Before Emma could even think to utter an apology, the woman in question swatted out of Emma's grasp.

"Unhand me!" Emma released her, taking a step back at the tone. "Watch where you're going next time."

Emma raised an eyebrow at the brunette woman before her who was huffing and shaking off imaginary lint from her well tailored suit. "I didn't hit you," Emma pointed out.

She stopped her roving hands and glared up at Emma. "You could have."

"I doubt that."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Unless you possess eyes at the back of your head, then I suggest you do what any civilized human does and walk properly."

With a huff the lady turned from Emma to walk the length of the counter and speak to whom Emma had discovered was Ruby's grandmother. Emma refrained from going over there and giving that lady a piece of her mind. She had much more important people to see. With her own indignant eye roll, Emma pushed open the door and marched back the way she had come.

It wasn't a long walk back to the clock tower where the bug was parked, but it was long enough to get Emma's nerves jumbled into a twist and for the butterflies in her stomach to flutter so rapidly she wondered if they were on something.

She dealt with people all the time. She could make friends if she absolutely had to. It wasn't a foreign concept. Just one she rarely personally engaged in. The brief thought that Regina wouldn't like her in real life came to the forefront of her brain not for the first time. Oh god, Emma suddenly remembered. She hates surprises. What if Regina hated her for springing up this visit? They joked about a meeting multiple times but neither ever confirmed plans. What if she's not even in town? She's a mayor, after all, she's probably doing mayorly things. What if Regina stopped writing to her because Emma listened to August who was famous for his impulses? Dammit.

Emma should write. Yeah. That was a good plan. She'd write to say if they'd like to meet up and that would settle that.

The war in her head was raging on even as she approached the clock tower. She didn't bother to cross the street when she saw it, her feet rooted to the spot on the sidewalk as she stared in disbelief. Her car had a boot on it.

"What the hell?" She questioned with outstretched arms and jogged the width of the street to inspect her bug. Against her better judgment, she yanked on the boot, unsurprised to find it firmly on. She groaned and cursed, looking for any street signs that proclaimed she couldn't park there, but finding none, she kicked at her car's tire in frustration before heading into her car and grabbing her rucksack, trudging angrily back to the diner.

This time her thoughts weren't filled on the anxiety of meeting Regina. Now it was the fact that the only big thing she ever possessed was locked up like some wild animal for no reason at all. What the hell was up with that? A Mercedes sped off just as she turned onto the diner patio and re-entered the restaurant.

"I knew you liked the burgers, but I didn't realize you liked them that much," Ruby teased when she noticed Emma's entry as she cleared a nearby table.

"My car got booted."

The waitress laughed out loud once and righted herself, bringing the tub of dirty dishes with her and around the counter as Emma followed. "That's hilarious."

"How?" Emma nearly screeched. "Does that usually happen here?"

"Only when you piss off that brunette you crashed into."

Emma turned to look at the spot where she had nearly collided with said brunette. "What stick is up her ass?"

Ruby furrowed her brow confused. "What?"

"So she just puts boots on people's cars," Emma spoke aloud.

Ruby shook her head to clear it. "What are you talking about? That's-"

The blonde shook her head, already turning to exit the diner. "I know someone who can help me out. Thanks, Ruby."

Ruby continued to stare on after Emma, thoroughly baffled by the turn of events. Granny sidled up next to her drying a mug with a dish rag. "She doesn't know that was Regina?"

The waitress shook her head, an intrigued smirk playing on her lips. "Nope. But she's going to."

When Regina had mentioned she lived in a small town, Emma didn't realize how true that statement was. Used to growing up from city to city, Emma found the fact that she was able to walk all the way to Mifflin Street from the diner in under twenty minutes to be quite the feat. It would have been less than a five minute drive if her car hadn't been booted, which still pissed Emma off the more she thought about it, but it gave her the time to take in the town on her walk to Regina's.

It was cool for the early April weather. It must have rained the day before since the air was damp yet muggy. Brighton Street seemed to be the beginning of Storybrooke's suburbs which ranged from refurbished firehouses turned lofts to dainty little bungalows. Nearly every house on that street was different. The apartment loft's front yard housed a large tree where a petite brunette was standing on a stepping ladder and placing a bird feeder on the aged tree's limbs. The woman in the yard gave Emma a wave, surprising the blonde at such friendly hospitality before waving back.

Other than her car incident, she was liking Storybrooke. It was a town with old roots and old families, white picket fences and tire swings, where everyone knew everyone's business but the community always came together when it counted. It was a town Emma wanted to live in as a kid, made fun of as a teenager, and now that she was walking through it as a young adult, Emma could see its value once again.

By the time she turned onto Mifflin, the white mansion on the corner immediately caught her attention. She didn't know how, but she had an inkling that it was Regina's house. She was the mayor after all. Of course she would be given the best house in town. A lone car drove down the street, and Emma almost stopped it, briefly believing it was Regina inside the vehicle, but the wisps of pale blonde hair made Emma realize her mistake and her anxiety. The nerves of finally meeting the woman resurfaced, battling with her frustration about her car. Regina could help her take care of that. Hopefully.

The long expanse of walkway leading from the sidewalk to Regina's front porch seemed like the longest stretch of concrete Emma had ever seen. And she had walked twenty miles in the blazing heat not weeks ago. Adjusting her sack around her shoulders, Emma took a steadying breath. Treat it like a mission, she told herself. Operation Pen Pal.

She took a step forward, soft thuds soundings from her combat boots as she walked up the precisely poured pavement. Faster than anticipated, Emma arrived at the door, staring up at the brass 108 screwed beside Regina's door panel.

She knocked three times.

The twenty-seven second wait had Emma holding her breath before she heard footsteps on the other side of the door, heard the lock click, and watched as the door parted open.

Emma's mouth slacked open when she saw the brunette she had run into at the diner, perfectly plucked eyebrows raised in confusion as she took in Emma on her porch. Emma's mind could only process one thing. Oh shit.

"Oh," Regina drawled. "You again."

Emma could only open and close her mouth as she stared at Regina dumbfounded.

"I suppose you have learned to use your eyes to walk, though I can't imagine why you chose to make your way to my property." Regina crossed her arms over her chest, making herself large in front of the open space of her door. When Emma didn't respond, Regina cocked her head to the side and stared expectantly. "Can I help you?"

The million thoughts running through her head and the numerous times she had pictured meeting her correspondent in no way prepared her for the real deal. But as was life, Emma adapted and blurted out the first thing that came to her mouth. "You booted my car."

Recognition flooded Regina's face. "That monstrosity in front of the clock tower? You were parked in front of a town building. It's a no parking zone. You can take up your complaint with the sheriff."

With a decisive nod, Regina turned to make her way back into her home, but Emma moved quickly, catching the brunette's arm and halting her progress. "Regina," Emma called.

Regina turned with a glare. "It's Mayor Mills to you, and you'll do well to remember it."

Emma couldn't stop the smirk from forming on her lips as she watched the glare harden. She learned to read people - their behaviour and their situations. It saved her life more than once, and that had nothing to do with her military training. What she saw of the woman before her was just armour. The Mayor's shield and defence mechanism. The barrier that kept everyone at bay, everyone except for Henry, and hopefully, Emma. The Regina she wrote to always said Emma had a different impression of her than what most folks thought, and Emma was starting to see where Regina was coming from. But Emma knew Regina, and Mayor Mills, another facet to the woman she had learned to call friend, was just another layer to the extremely complex woman.

Regina narrowed her gaze. "Who are you?"

Emma rolled a shoulder, suppressing the butterflies in her stomach resulting from admitting her identity and practically getting yelled at by Regina. "Emma," she finally answered. "Emma Swan."

The armour fell as Regina's breath hitched. She pressed a hand to her chest and took a step back, her glare gone and her eyes widening in disbelief. "Emma?" She whispered.

Emma smiled then and offered a bashful shrug. "Hi."

"You're here?" Regina asked. The tone she had taken to scold Emma was immediately replaced with something much softer. Emma was willing to bet it was one Regina rarely used with anyone else. "You're here in Storybrooke."

"Yeah, I sent a letter," Emma explained hastily, still amazed that this was technically not her first meeting of Regina. "I guess I beat it. I mean, I didn't say I was gonna visit, but I said I was going state-side. You'll probably get it in a week or something. I was in Boston with August, you remember August right?"

"Of course, how is he?"

"Still hasn't kicked my ass yet."

A smile tugged at Regina's lips which caused the grin to form on Emma's. Regina took a step closer, her hand outstretched. "Private Swan, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Regina Mills."

Emma chuckled and took Regina's hand, aware of how soft it felt in between her own calloused palm. "Emma. Well it's technically Corporal now, but I like Emma."

They continued to shake one another's hand, their palms bobbing up and down in the space between them as they continued to soak up one another with their eyes.

Emma had been too floored by Regina's abrupt insult and dismissal at the diner to truly appreciate the woman other than the fact that she was a bitch. That point wasn't lost on Emma having personally been on the receiving end, and perhaps Emma was a bit naive to believe the woman was a saint, hell Regina had warned her more than once, but as Emma shamelessly continued to stared, all the stories and letters that had been a security to Emma for the past three years came crashing over her as the writer stood before her. This was the woman who reads Ulysses for fun. She was the woman who never missed a Christmas or a birthday ever since Emma began writing to her. There was the scar on her lip that Regina had gotten from a particularly wild horse. Her eyes, previously cold and guarding, now shone with a brightness that Emma would bet most definitely lit up at each mention of her son. Henry. Where was the kid?

"Mommy!" A little high pitched voice yelled from inside, forcing the two women to break their hold. "Mo-ommy! I'm do-one!"

Emma couldn't help herself as she stared at the partially open door. "Is that-"

"Yes," Regina confirmed. After a beat, she motioned to the door. "Would you like to come inside?"

Emma nodded eagerly but hesitated. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

"Emma." That was all Regina said as she clasped Emma around the wrist and tugged her into the mansion, and Emma swore actually hearing Regina say her name was arguably one of the best things she had ever heard.

Dear god, he was smaller than Emma imagined, and his hair was wild though Emma could see Regina's attempts at combing it down. Henry, kneeling on a chair at the kitchen island, pressed coloured candies into dinosaur-shaped cookies, marking its eyes. Emma grinned when she saw the kid sneak a candy into his mouth, promptly remove it, and ask Regina if he was allowed a sweet just as the confection colouring was running down his fingers.

"Just this once," Regina allowed, making Emma's presence in the kitchen more noticeable by guiding her into the room. "Henry, I'd like for you to meet someone."

The boy looked up immediately, sweet in his mouth as he wiped his hands on his child-sized apron before waving. "Hello. I'm making cookies."

Emma beamed and nodded impressed. "You must have been a good boy to get to make cookies."

"I'm practise for my birthday," Henry explained, already going back to decorating his cookies.

"Practising," Regina gently corrected. When he repeated the sentence with the correct word, Regina kissed his temple and motioned for Emma to approach.

"Henry, do you remember our special friend?"

"Emma," Henry answered obviously, sprinkling a ridiculous amount of coloured sugar onto an unfortunate dinosaur.

Emma's heart swelled hearing him say her name. If she was giddy when Regina said it, the feeling she got when Henry voiced it made her own voice catch in her throat. She had watched him grow up through drawings, tracking his progress from meaningless doodles to complete pictures of his day at the park. She had read about his first word, his first step, his first time sleeping on his own, but hearing him say her name for the first time was something else entirely.

"Right, Emma." Regina caught her eye. "Can you say hi to Emma again, please?"

Henry looked up at his mother confused before looking back at the blonde stranger in his kitchen. The gears in his head shifted quickly for he comically widened his mouth and all but leaped from the chair into Emma's arm. "Emma!"

"Hey," she grunted, just barely catching him and reassuring Regina's worried look at Henry's antic with a nod. She succumbed when Henry wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed. It was all Emma could do but to hug back and revel in the boy's warmth and excitement. "Hi, Henry."

He pulled back and grasped Emma's cheeks between his sticky palms. "You here for my birthday?"

Emma wanted to smack herself if she wasn't currently holding a two-year old. She almost forgot the kid's birthday coming up. She caught Regina's eye, and when the brunette didn't say no, Emma nodded. "Yeah, kid."

He grinned and leaned over toward the island, signalling his need to resume his decorating. Emma nearly lost her hold on him at the unexpected maneuver. "Easy there, daredevil."

He shot her a toothy grin before turning to Regina. "Mommy, can Emma help too?"

"You're just about done, dear," Regina said as he finished the last dinosaur. "We can try your treats after dinner, and after your nap."

"But Emma's here." He looked to the blonde with the biggest puppy dog eyes she had ever seen. Regina must have sensed her weakness for she tugged his face back to her, tapping his nose with a finger. "Nap first, Henry."

The boy continued to pout but sunk to all fours on the chair before climbing down. He took off his apron and gave it to Regina to hang on a hook where her own apron hung.

He sprinted out of the room, ignoring the calls from his mother to slow down leaving Regina and Emma in the messy kitchen.

They caught one another's eye both blushing at the contact before Regina grabbed the tray of cookies and set them aside.

"You were right," Emma broke the silence. "He's cute."

Regina smiled proudly at the statement. "To my own detriment though. Even I have fallen prey to those large eyes once or twice."

"You? Regina Mills?" Emma feigned shock as she helped put away the candies. "There won't be any hope for humanity if Henry keeps that up."

Henry's call disrupted them once again, and promising to return, Regina left Emma alone in the kitchen.

"But I don't wanna nap, Mommy." Henry rubbed at his eyes, already tucked into his bed as he succumbed to a big yawn yet continued to speak. "Wanna play with Emma."

She covered his mouth for him and removed his hands, settling him firmly into the bed. Henry was usually polite to everyone he met, he was the Mayor's son after all, but Regina was a little surprised how quickly he had accepted Emma into his life after hearing only stories of her. She was grateful Emma could actually keep up with him. Leaning over and kissing his temple, she said, "you may play with her when you wake."

"I'm awake now," he reasoned tiredly.

She chuckled to herself and began humming the bars of a nursery rhyme her father used to sing to her. Soon enough, his breathing evened, and Henry was down for his nap. Standing, she left the room leaving the door ajar as she made her way back downstairs where Emma Swan was.

When Regina woke up this morning, her to-do list involved confirming catering with Granny's for Henry's third birthday the following Saturday, picking up her dry cleaning, and baking with Henry. Finding Emma on her doorstep had been quite the surprise, though, if Regina was honest with herself, a pleasant one. Sidney had been pestering Regina to divulge information about her military correspondent for his human-interest piece, but Regina had no wishes to do so. Perhaps before she would have allowed it to set up an image for herself in the town, but now, Emma was her friend. The word still baffled her, but she knew it to be true.

She had always wondered what her correspondent looked like, but seeing her now, looking older beyond her twenty years, and Regina could venture a guess as to why, her mind hadn't done Emma justice. The blonde was quite pretty, even when she was dumbfounded or brimming with anger - Oh dear god, she confiscated her car. Regina nearly stopped dead upon the realization but continued to make her way into the kitchen. She did stop suddenly there to see that Emma had cleaned up the island. The candies were back in their respective bags, and the stray sprinkles and coloured sugars were wiped away leaving her counter spotless.

"Sorry," Emma said looking up from the sink where she rung out a dish rag. "I figured I could save you the mess. Plus, habit, you know?"

"You didn't have to do that." Regina cleared her throat, her cheeks tinting at the thought of her actions to the blonde earlier. "I should be the one apologizing. My actions toward you upon your arrival were uncalled for. I'll have the sheriff remove the boot from your car."

Emma turned so her back was to the sink and smirked. "It'll be a funny story later. I did show up uninvited so not entirely your fault."

Regina returned the smile and cocked her head to the side. "How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted?"

"You're not legal yet." Regina refrained from giving Emma the tumbler when realization dawned as their hands brushed for the exchange.

"In a few months," Emma pointed out. When Regina refused to relinquish her hold, Emma laughed once. "I can die for this country, but god forbid I drink in it?"

Regina mulled over her words, a little unnerved at Emma's outright bluntness of the consequences of her job before conceding. "Just this once."

"Did you make this from your Honey Crisp apples?" Emma asked taking a sip of cider, nodding appreciatively at the taste.

"Yes." Regina sat opposite Emma in her study and drank from her own glass. "The tree is planted just outside Town Hall."

A silence encompassed them as they seemed to be studying one another's features. When their eyes met, Emma let out a breathy laugh at being caught but took another large gulp and leaned back on her couch. "You're different than what I imagined."

Regina cocked an eyebrow. "What kind of different?"

"The kind of different that shows its difference to only certain people."

"Well," Regina began crossing her legs daintily, "that's what being a politician is."

"I didn't say it was bad. It's just, it's just really nice to put a face to the name."

"I admit, I imagined you more..."

"Butch?" Emma provided for her, smirking at Regina's blush. "If you imagined me doing chin ups for hours on end and spitting tobacco, then yeah, that's me, minus the tobacco."

"I guess we are all full of surprises." Regina toasted her glass to which Emma returned the gesture. Once she had settled her glass down, Regina looked intently at the young woman across from her, her voice softer than Emma had yet to hear. "How are you?"

Emma ran a hand through her hair and let out a dry laugh. "Good. Really, I'm- it's just good to be back."

Regina nodded, allowing the answer for the time being. "How long are you here for?"

"A month."

"That's all?" Regina asked baffled. "You've been gone for a year."

"Yeah," Emma let out another dry laugh. "Part of the job."

"Are you going back to Iraq?" Regina questioned, worry etched onto the lines of her face.

Emma shrugged. "I go where they tell me."

"And you're okay with that?"

Emma almost wanted to say she didn't have a choice, but she did, and at the end of the day, wearing the uniform, representing an entire country, meaning something, it was worth it. She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I am."

Regina took a moment to soak in Emma's words before nodding almost imperceptibly.

"What?" Emma asked catching the action.

"Perhaps our first meeting may not have gone exactly as we imagined, but I was correct in one aspect."

"What's that?"

"I tell Henry about you, and I say you're away because you are very brave fighting dragons like the white knights in his books," Regina explained.

"I'm no knight," Emma shrugged bashfully.

"To him, you are. And you are quite brave."

Regina and Emma talked for the better part of an hour as if they were old friends catching each other up before the soft pattering of Henry's feet as he climbed down the stairs travelled down into the study. Regina had asked about Emma's plans for the month, and when the blonde was at a loss for words since in all technicality she had been kicked out of August's, Regina found herself offering to give Emma a tour of the town for the rest of the week before the party. Emma, after voicing her concerns about imposing her presence on the family, soon conceded and eventually, she found herself sitting in the living room after a ridiculously good home cooked dinner, Henry on the floor at her feet while Regina had left the room to take a business call.

Emma watched as Henry played with a horse and knights figurine set before she stood suddenly and walked to the entrance of the room where she had placed her rucksack earlier. She kneeled and carefully withdrew the letters and drawings she had accumulated, separating the drawings specifically before returning to Henry. "Do you want to see something?"

"Yeah!" Henry abandoned his toys and crawled into Emma's lap. She wrapped her arms around him as they sat cross-legged on the floor and held the drawings in front of them.

"Do you remember drawing me pictures?"

"Yeah!" Henry giggled pointing at his most recent one of himself, Regina, and a dog at the park. "That's Pongo."

"I have all your pictures that you gave me." Emma went through them, one-by-one, the boy disbelieving that he could ever draw something like a bunch of scribbles, but Emma insisted it was a rainbow tornado. When they got to the farm picture, Henry recounted a tale, to which Emma nodded and agreed enthusiastically about the facts, of how Henry caught a big fat pig and got to bring him home but his Mommy was "'llergic."

"Was I?" Regina chimed in from the hallway. Judging by her relaxed stance against the door frame, she had been standing there for a while.

"Yeah!" Henry agreed, leaping from Emma's lap and jumping up and down in his toddler excitement. "You like achoo! Achoo! Achoo!"

Both women laughed at Henry's silliness before Regina finally shook her head and crouched to Henry's level. "It's time to say good night to Emma."

Henry ran to Emma who was just righting herself, colliding into her legs for a hug. "Night night, Emma. You come too?"

This time Emma received the puppy dog eyes in full force, and Emma pulled one of her own to Regina either to concede or to save her. Regina rolled her eyes playfully before agreeing to the former. "Very well."

Emma placed the drawings on the coffee table before lifting Henry into her arms and following Regina up the stairs and into the boy's room. The dark blue paint was soothing, and the glow in the dark stars and planets on the ceiling was a nice tough to the solar system that hung from the ceiling. No doubt it was Regina's attempt to encourage an interest of science in her son.

When Emma set Henry down, mother and son went through their nightly routine of getting him into his pyjamas and brushing his teeth. Emma lingered in the space between his room and the hallway before she found something in the room to be much more enticing. There were pictures all over his room from the walls to the dressers. The picture on his nightstand was one of Regina and Henry, and from the looks of the boy it was quite recent, as mother hugged her son from behind, Henry's arm reaching behind him to return the gesture. She continued her search, walking along the walls opposite the bed when her eyes became trained on a picture of Henry at his first birthday, clinging to his mother for dear life. Emma laughed when she remembered the clown incident, but the laugh was cut off when she saw a smaller frame that held just the sliver of a corner of paper. It was the drawing Emma attempted of Henry blowing out his candles. The butterflies in her stomach were back, but it wasn't from nerves or anxiety. It was a good fluttering. Like the butterflies were trapped for so long and seeing home for the first time type of fluttering. They moved from her stomach and pounded rapidly in her heart as a smile overwhelmed her face.

"Emma?" Regina called as she sat on Henry's bed.

Emma turned to see both brunettes waiting for her and hastily apologized before strutting over to the bed, stuffing her hands in her pocket at a loss for what to do. Henry flipped open a large book that boasted the title "Once Upon a Time" before he settled onto a story and looked expectantly at his mother and Emma.

Emma nodded her understanding and moved to the other side of the bed effectively sandwiching Henry in.

"Once upon a time in the Enchanted Forest, there lived a Queen and a Knight..."

"Sorry for keeping you up so late," Emma said as they lingered by the door after Henry had fallen asleep. "And for knocking into you this morning. And for inviting myself to your house."

Regina shook her head dismissing the apologies before she gasped suddenly. "Oh dear, I forgot about your car."

"It's cool, everything is in walking distance. The waitress at the diner said her grandma owned a B&B, so I'll just head over there."

"My, my, making friends already," Regina quipped.

"You know me, the orphaned soldier with a sunny disposition."

"Especially if you're able to get through to the hard-ass Mayor."

"There's an 'awesome' in there somewhere."

Regina laughed, a sound that Emma was going to imprint to the deepest corners of her mind when missions looked to be bleak.

"You can stay," Regina offered quietly. "I wouldn't want you getting lost in my town."

Emma found that she couldn't express her gratitude to Regina's generosity, something that had been shown to her time and time again, other than by nodding her head and removing her jacket, following the brunette back into her study.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: Trigger warning for violence and warfare. In celebration of the 3B premiere tonight, a new update! I haven't gotten the chance to reply back to everyone's review from the previous chapter, but I am slowly but surely working on it. I hope you guys enjoy! HAPPY ONCE DAY!

Emma kept her eyes peeled as she sat in the passenger seat of the camouflaged jeep, a vehicle of similar design driving along ahead of them as the teams made their patrol around the surrounding land. Dust picked up under their tires as the sun blazed down on the open road, the sparse dried out shrubbery their only companions on the lonely road.

The radio crackled to life, and Emma picked it up in time to hear August's voice through the line. "It's quiet. Go another quarter mile then we'll head out. Over."

"Roger that, over." Emma replaced the device and glanced at Neal who looked like he wanted to snort in derision.

"It's always quiet," Emma filled in the man's thoughts.

"Are you gonna radio in and tell him to turn around now?"

Emma shook her head. "Let him have his fun, then you can go stare at your picture of Tamara."

Neal rolled his eyes but didn't deny her claim as he continued to follow the dirt road path.

Emma had become accustomed to a quiet patrol. Occasionally they would see civilians on the side of the road, some cursing their presence there with obscene gestures, but that had been the extent of their altercations. Her days were long, but when she was on patrol, she got back to camp not as drained as she usually would be and got to spend more time reading Regina's letters or writing her own. Regina had just come back from New York and had sent Emma a keychain with an engraved swan on it. The gesture made the blonde grin as she fingered her dog tag necklace where she had strung the keychain through. I saw it and thought of you, Regina had written. The blonde had a hard time suppressing her grin after that line.

"All right, guys," August's voice crackled through the speaker, "let's head-"

The line went dead as August's jeep careened off the road, glass and metal bits flying off as some faraway rocket hit the land just ten feet shy of the side of the jeep. The jeep rolled over once, twice, glass shattering with each roll before it settled down as a firing heap on its side.

"Shit!" Neal yelled, pulling their jeep into reverse and flooring it just as another rocket exploded where their car had once been.

Emma's face heated immediately from the heat and fire it created. She shielded her eyes and braced herself for another attack, staring wide eyed at the two craters in the earth that would have been their graves. After fifteen seconds of calm, Neal put the shift back into drive to race to the damaged jeep. Its left side doors were nearly blown off its hinges as they hung limply in the air. Emma could see the driver as he slumped over the steering wheel and leaning toward to the passenger seat, knocked unconscious. The only thing keeping him upright was his seatbelt, but the attack had made his side vulnerable. They had to get to them quickly.

Then the bullets sounded. Emma didn't have time to process before instinct took over. She turned swiftly in her seat, locking eyes with the men behind her. "Cover us."

They nodded, and as one, they slipped out of their jeep, raising their rifles and shooting in the direction of the hailing bullets. Emma caught enough in her periphery to see that the shrubbery opposite them was moving, no doubt camouflaging their attackers, and judging by the distance of the rockets, a few others were hidden in the mountains.

Metal clinking metal as bullets attempted to tear through the armour of the jeeps. The heat from the fire of the car in front of them. The groans of the wounded and the yells of the attackers. All of that faded when Emma spotted August, collapsed under the weight of the jeep's side.

"Man, down!" Emma yelled, barely processing the fact that she was narrowly avoiding a hail of bullets as she ran to August who had yet to move. It was only thanks to his position behind the burning vehicle that he was protected against the rain of bullets, but that did nothing but keep him paralyzed for his leg was trapped between the car's roof and the dusty dessert floor.

Staying low to the ground, she quickly checked his vitals and breathed out heavily when the pulse underneath her finger was faint. The gashes on his face were embedded with glass, and the angle of his body told Emma he must have been thrown from the car on impact. Jesus Christ there was so much blood. The man's eyes fluttered open just a fraction of an inch as he coughed, a red stream escaping his lips. It was then Emma truly took inventory of him and found that not only was his leg pinned under the roof, turned at an odd angle from the impact, but there was a dark red patch under his left rib that was growing by the minute. She felt around the wound gently and cursed under her breath when she felt the sharp point of a large shrapnel.

"Come on, August," Emma grunted and gave her superior a hard tug to free his leg.

His scream reverberated in her head.

"Emma, fall back!" She heard Neal call to her, but her only thought was to get August out of there. His leg was almost out, and she knew it would hurt like a bitch to get him out, but she didn't have a choice. She had to save him. She wouldn't leave him there.

Looping her hands under his arms, Emma stood and pulled, drowning out every noise except for the anguished cry of her friend, her brother, as she pulled him free. The released pressure made her fall back when August escaped the weight of the jeep, collapsing back into the open fire where the vehicle was protecting him no more.

One second Emma had looked up to reach him, to grab his hand, his shoulder, anything, to pull him back with her The next second there was a bullet in his head.

Her ears rang, and time slowed. Her mouth opened, but the scream that wanted to escape was muted as she watched August lay there, lifeless.

"No!" She shook away from the person holding her back. "No!"

"Emma. Emma, wake up."

Emma sat up abruptly, rolled out the opposite side of her bed and pressed near the window, her hands up defensively. Her mind was whirling. August's screams were still ringing in her head. His dead body was seared permanently in her mind's eye.

"Emma." The voice that had roused her was soothing, and it took Emma half a second to realize it was Regina, eyes wide with worry as she stood on the opposite side of the room beside the bed, her own hands up with caution. "Are you okay?"

Emma nodded before taking in deep gulps of air, eyes scanning the room to confirm that she wasn't fighting anymore. She was home. She was in Regina's house. In her guest room. August was alive and safe. She took another breath then nodded more intently. "Yeah."

Regina shook her head in understanding. "Nightmare?"

"Yeah." Emma finally withdrew from the window and crawled to the head of the bed sitting with her back against the headboard.

"Do they happen often?" Regina asked hesitantly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Sometimes." Emma gave a half shrug. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Motherhood has made me a light sleeper," Regina admitted.

Emma gave a half-hearted smirk, leaning her head back and shutting her eyes, counting backwards from ten as the noises in her mind slowly faded away. When she opened them again, she saw Regina still watching her, concern etching her brow. Despite the light orange glow peeking into the room from behind the drapes, Regina shivered in the barely used room and ran a palm up and down her arms. The goosebumps pebbled on her flesh, and Emma felt bad again for waking up the woman who had already extended her generosity to Emma far more than was necessary.

"Are you okay?" Regina asked again, her question laced with numerous other inquiries yet Emma heard them all loud and clear.

Compartmentalizing was key to her job. A soldier fought better when emotions didn't get in the way, Emma knew that. Hell, that got her through some of the toughest foster homes she had ever been in. But she knew the consequences of it as well, the horror stories of suffering from PTSD, of snapping under the weight of the pressure, going home a changed person. Not me, Emma thought. That wouldn't be her. So she was honest and shook her head, clenching the sheets in her tight fists. "I couldn't save August," she admitted quietly.

A brief moment of confusion clouded Regina's features before her mouth parted into a small, understanding "o".

"I exposed him and he got killed," the blonde continued, her fists clenched in her lap as they rubbed over one another as if they were stained with blood. "I might as well have put the gun to his head."

"Emma," Regina drawled cautiously, scooting up further to the head of the bed. A warm hand came down gently on Emma's forearm though it didn't cease the tension coiling through the blonde. "You saved his life. You went back for him, and you got him the medical attention he needed."

Emma laughed dryly. "So he can live the rest of his days either confined to a wheelchair or hobbling on a prosthetic?"

"So he can live." Regina rubbed her palm further down Emma's forearm until she reached the clenched hands and carefully extracted them from one another. With Regina's soothing rubbing circles to the back of her hand, Emma allowed the tension to seep away from her body, escaping right where Regina was touching her. "Does he seem dissatisfied by the turn of events?"

Emma shrugged, finally looking up to make eye contact with the older brunette. "He says he's doing okay, but I saw the beer bottles. It's hard on him."

"As it would be. He's suffered a life altering event," Regina reminded her with a squeeze to her palm. "His life has changed drastically, but he can continue to live it. I understand the guilt you must feel, but you are not the one who damaged his leg. You are the one that brought him home."

Emma was quiet for a moment, replaying events in her mind where August's end result wasn't lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life. No matter how hard she tried, even the best circumstance had an unpleasant end. Emma knew that when she enlisted. She knew the risks and was willing to take them. She sighed, running her free hand through her hair. "It could have been worse," she guessed.

"And it could have been better. But your actions were honourable and selfless. Don't ever forget that, soldier."

Emma smirked, the guilt and tension subsiding for now before she removed her arm from Regina's grasp and squeezed the brunette's palm in gratitude. "I won't."

Regina gave a small smile which the blonde returned shyly. "Do you feel better?"

Emma nodded. "It's nice to talk to someone. Definitely quicker than mail."

"More pleasant to look at too," Regina said before she could fully process her words. It was only Emma's intrigued raised eyebrow that made Regina blush and flounder for clarification, something that Emma found endearing and absolutely adorable. No doubt the high strung Mayor was never at a loss for words before. "I mean, talking to a real person is more appealing than words on a page."

Emma chuckled and relaxed back into the bed. "I'm sure that's what you meant."

Regina rolled her eyes, glaring softly at the blonde in the bed before her gaze zeroed in on the charm hanging on the beaded chain of her dog tag. "You kept it," Regina observed, leaning over to finger the swan charm partially hidden behind the identification tags.

Emma looked down at Regina's touch and reflexively pressed her own fingers to her necklace, brushing Regina's in the process. The brunette made no start to move her hand and instead grazed her thumb over the engraving.

"Yeah," Emma said, lifting up the chain between them as they both examined the charm closely. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I didn't expect you would wear it on your person." Regina moved her fingers to one of the two dog tags, squinting her eyes at the piece of metal. "I always wondered what these meant."

"They're ID tags," Emma explained, easing the one Regina was fingering out of the woman's grasp before scooting closer so she could help bring it into the glowing light of the morning sun. She skimmed over every embossed line and spoke. "My name. Social security number. And blood type. There's two tags so that one can be left with the body in case..."

"In case your body can't be retrieved right away," Regina provided darkly, meeting Emma's gaze, but the blonde nodded nonetheless.

Regina shook her head. "The tag taken, who do they notify in the event of a fatality?"

"Usually a spouse, but the closest kin or the emergency contact."

"Who do they notify if anything happens to you?" Regina clarified.

Emma bit the inside of her cheek, rolling a shoulder nonchalantly. "I don't know, I haven't really put anyone down for it."

"Why not?" Regina asked alarmed.

"Group home to group home to boot camp, remember?" Emma said with a tight smile. "Nobody to contact. I'm a glorified ward of the state."

Regina opened her mouth, but as soon as the barest of sounds escaped her lips both Emma and Regina turned their heads at the sound of Regina's alarm clock blaring in her room.

Emma feigned a stretch and looked at Regina pointedly. "Well good morning, Regina."

Regina laughed once and stood. "I'll turn that off and let you return to bed."

Her statement was useless for Emma was already up and out of bed, fluffing out the blanket to drape it over its length, tucking the ends under the mattress until it was taut. "I get up with the sun. I was hoping to go for a run."

"Of course," Regina said standing by the wall, impressed at Emma's impeccable bed-making skills. Looking at the blonde, one would question her discipline since her light-hearted and jovial nature was her most striking characteristic, but habit and duty was ingrained in her blood and surfaced at even the oddest moments.

Emma smirked when Regina blushed down at her attire, finally realizing that her blue nightie was more revealing than she had expected. Her haste to see to her guest superseded her need for modesty. Suppressing a chuckle, Emma stood proud in her own tank top and underwear attempting to make Regina feel as comfortable as possible. Regina left the room, and soon the house quieted from the blaring alarm, and Regina returned to Emma's room, donning a robe cinched tightly around her waist.

"I'm afraid I can't give you that tour I promised you for today. I have a few meetings that I couldn't reschedule."

"It's okay. I'll explore the town." Emma moved to the far wall where her rucksack lay and bent over to retrieve a pair of leggings before pausing in thought. "My sneakers are in my duffel in my car."

"Right," Regina remembered. "I'll call the sheriff."

Emma's run had been put on hold, so instead, she opted into doing push ups on the floor of the guest room while Regina showered. It was just after her first round of fifty when the sudden weight of a little boy jumping onto her back as she dipped down interrupted her work out.

"Morning, Emma." Henry wrapped his arms around her neck as he straddled her back koala-style.

The blonde grinned as the boy snuggled in between her shoulder blades, his voice still laced with sleep and the plush dragon clutched between his fingers dangling in front of Emma's face. She continued her work out unphased, purposely jostling her body to wake up the boy who giggled and held on tighter. "Hey little man."

"You a horsy-horsy." Henry sat up, using the back of Emma's tank for his reigns as he bounced up and down on her back.

"A horse?" Emma reared up on all fours and crawled around the room. She neighed obnoxiously and pulled up onto her knees, wrapping her arms around her back to keep Henry stable.

"Emma!" He laughed happily and clung tighter to her neck. "I falling!"

"Hold on tight!" She dipped down back to all fours and crawled quickly around the room, bucking wildly.

The dragon in Henry's grasp slipped from his fingers, but Emma moved quickly to catch it, simultaneously sliding him off her back and catching him under the arms to rocket ship him onto the bed. His laugh was infectious, a high pitched squeal as Emma found an especially ticklish area under his right ribcage. She lowered her voice to a deep gruff as she used Henry's dragon to tickle at his neck. "I'm going to eat you!"

"Help me, Mommy!" Henry gasped in laughter when he saw Regina standing at the door with a pleased smile gracing her lips.

Emma straightened almost immediately when she realized Regina was standing in the doorway. "Hi." She pointed to the dragon and shrugged. "Must be a carnivore."

Regina's eyes twinkled with mirth while her lips pulled up into a smirk when Henry pouted at the adults talking and proceeded to grab Emma's free hand and moving it back to his ribs to coax the blonde into tickling him again.

"I can see that," Regina said amused when Emma realized Henry's tactic and allowed her fingers to scrape at his tickle spot. With a smirk, Regina turned from the door and called over her shoulder, "he's especially ticklish at his collar bone."

"Mommy!" Henry reprimanded, but it was immediately cut off when Emma zeroed in at his neck.

Emma slammed the door of her car shut, the vehicle still booted, as she draped her duffel around a shoulder. After dropping off Henry at daycare, Regina had called the Sheriff only to be redirected to a voicemail saying he was out on patrol. That left the pair to walk back to the clock tower for Emma to retrieve her belongings for the time being. "So that B&B over there has accommodations, right?"

Regina pulled her jacket around her to protect her from the light breeze as both she and Emma crossed the street. "Nonsense, you'll stay with me."

Emma raised an eyebrow and did little to suppress her smirk. "Is that so?"

"It's the least I could do." Regina motioned behind them to Emma's bug when they crossed the street. "Plus, I'll be leaving you stranded for the day or so."

The blonde laughed and adjusted her duffel. "It's killing you that I've totally surprised you and you can't be as hospitable as you normally would, isn't it?"

Regina glared only reinforcing Emma's laughter. "You have my number, correct?"

"Yes."

"And the address to town hall?"

"Yes."

"And you know your way back to the mansion?" Regina stopped when Emma cheekily bit her lip suppressing a new wave of laughter. "What?"

"I can't wait until Henry starts dating," Emma explained. "If you're grilling me, I can only imagine the poor soul the kid brings home."

"Well that's enough of your foresight for the morning," Regina huffed and turned. "I will see you later, soldier."

Emma smirked, watching the brunette walk down the street. She gave Regina a pointed look when Regina turned her head to catch Emma still watching her before she shook her perfectly coiffed locks and continued down the street.

"So she lives."

Emma turned to see Ruby, jogging down a back road in bright red heels and a piece of fabric constituting as shorts. The younger woman was just finishing up tying the ends of her blouse into a neat knot under her chest, exposing the piercing at her navel that was unsurprisingly matching the red the waitress seemed to adore.

"Were you worried?" Emma asked, waiting for Ruby to catch up so the pair could walk down the street together.

Ruby cast a look behind her where Regina had just turned a corner disappearing onto Montgomery that housed Town Hall. "Honestly? Yeah, I was. No one comes out of meeting the Mayor with their head on straight."

"I keep hearing that, but I'm not really seeing it," Emma said.

"Really?" Ruby asked incredulously. "She booted your car. A ticket would have done the job."

"Yeah, she's gonna get that fixed."

Ruby snorted as they turned onto the diner's patio. "So how is it you know Mayor Mills?"

"We're friends," Emma said, straightening her back as she eyed the younger brunette defensively.

"Really? I kinda thought you were lying about that." Ruby admitted, pulling open the diner door. "I didn't know the mayor had friends."

A burly man sitting by the counter smelling an awfully lot like booze and cleaning products guffawed as he caught the ending of Ruby's comment. "I bet she pays well to pretend though."

"Hey." Emma defended, dropping her duffel by the foot of the bar stool. "You don't know her like I do."

Ruby motioned to both of them in way of introduction as she walked around the counter, avoiding her grandmother's gaze at being late. "Emma, Leroy. Leroy, Emma."

Leroy looked at Emma as if another head were sprouting from her neck. He gave her a lecherous leer followed by a presumptuous smirk. "Oh yeah? You mean like the biblical sense?"

Emma rolled her eyes and glared at the man which was soon directed to Ruby who cackled at Leroy's presumption. "She did spend the night there," Ruby mock whispered to the man.

"And she's still living?" Leroy leaned in closer to Ruby to confirm the details.

"So how about those apple pancakes?" Emma asked loudly, effectively shutting the book on their teasing.

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose as she spoke to Sheriff Graham on the phone. After her morning meetings that led her to believe this town would dwindle away without her control, the last thing she needed was the Sheriff baffled and blubbering concerns about how he had followed her orders exactly and questioning why she wanted them undone.

"I understand perfectly that I told you to boot the Volkswagen in front of the clock tower, but do you understand what I'm telling you now, Sheriff?" Regina asked slowly and enunciated clearly. The man may have a knack for scouring the woods for any lost hikers or Dalmatians, but simple English appeared to escape his grasp.

"You want me to take it off," Graham answered.

Regina smiled and clapped her hand on her desk in praise. "Now you've got it. And I expect you to have it done before five o'clock today, or so help me."

Regina slammed her phone down as way of goodbye, shutting her eyes and breathing deeply to allow the stress to seep out through her fingers.

It was a shame, really, that she worked with such incompetent people. Emma's impromptu visit had certainly taken Regina by surprise, but Regina found that she wasn't upset by the blonde's presence. Finding Emma on her porch after realizing who exactly she was had sent Regina a curve ball, but the shock was nearly immediately replaced when Emma had said hi. For three years she had wondered who this brave woman was with whom she had written to and revealed information about herself and her son no less. The easiness in which they spoke upon meeting left no doubt to any onlooker that she and Emma had maintained a relationship - a true friendship, though unorthodox Regina would admit, but seeing Emma for the first time sparked something within the usually cold and indifferent brunette.

Emma was real, here, and despite their unusual start, for some reason, Emma continued to see Regina in the best light despite being on the receiving end on a Mayor Mills altercation. Regina could count on one hand the number of people with whom she had ever opened herself up to, and she was pleased to add the blonde to the count. Frankly, she was a little nervous about the idea of meeting Emma. What if she was too aggressive? Too strict? - which reminded Regina too much of her mother. Or what if Emma was simply nothing like the letters she had written?

For once, Regina was glad that she had been proven wrong.

Emma was the young soldier looking for her place in the world. She was every bit the wanderer as her messages indicated, and though her excitement for Henry was obvious in her words, seeing Henry in Emma's lap and tickled mercilessly by the blonde was relieving that their connection was true, and it was more than a little endearing seeing smiles plastered on both Henry and Emma's faces.

A knock pulled her from her reveries, and already her annoyance returned to its former levels at the interruption. "What is it?" She snapped at the intruder, brushing her hair out of her face to glare.

She was met with an amused smirk by the object of her thoughts as Emma leaned against the doorway with a take out bag in her grasp. "They warned me about your temper," Emma said by way of greeting.

"One day in town and you're already fully integrated into Storybrooke's rumour mill. Let me guess, you were formerly inducted by Miss Lucas," Regina quipped.

"If you mean Ruby then yes, though I haven't quite received my official membership card and complimentary shirt," Emma responded just as quickly. She cast her eyes toward the bag and held it up. "I know you're busy all day, but I wanted to bring you lunch for letting me stay."

Regina smiled and stood from her desk to accept the blonde's offer. "Thank you. How are you enjoying the town?"

"You were right when you said it was small," Emma admitted, following Regina back to her desk where she took a seat opposite the brunette. "I take it the diner is where the cool kids hang out."

"I frequent it only ever so often, so that mustn't be the location," Regina said casually, opening the bag to find a chicken salad club inside.

Emma's mouth opened in an exaggerated mock. "Did you just make a joke? My intel told me you personally extracted your funny bone from your body."

Regina pressed a finger to her lips holding Emma to the secret before motioning to her lunch. "How did you know?"

"I remember you mentioning it."

They shared a small smile, but before Regina could take a bite, another knock sounded at her door to find her timid secretary and one of the executives she was scheduled to meet with for the afternoon.

"Duty calls?" Emma guessed, standing from her seat and making her exit.

With a silent glare to the people at her door, Regina sent them away before turning to Emma, her expression softening as she shrugged apologetically. "I'll see you at home."

Storybrooke was a small town through and through. Its resistance to integrate into modern society was evident by the inexistent fast food chains and superstores. The fact that the entire town could be walked through on a clear day reflected just how small and close everything truly was. But it was the gossip that secured Storybrooke and its residents its place as an official small town.

The blonde haired stranger that had unexpectedly drove into town a week prior had been the talk of the town. Sure, Storybrooke had its fair share of newcomers wandering through Main Street in an effort to refuel both their vehicles and their stomachs before making their way up the coast, but no one had ever stayed longer than a day or two before. What was more unnerving was that nobody had ever come to Storybrooke for the sole purpose of visiting Regina Mills.

That lone reason was why Emma Swan had been a topic of conversation for the week she had been in town. Citizens had spoken to the new arrival finding her just as normal as they, if not just a tad private, and Ruby had even attested that the blonde was evidently in a good mind set and was not blackmailed into Regina's presence. In fact, Regina had taken the rest of the week off from work and had pulled Henry from daycare, confirmed by the pre-school teacher, Ms. Tina Bell. Many residents swore they saw the trio out and about, taking walks around some of Storybrooke's bigger landmarks like the old chapel that had withstood a nasty rainstorm that brought down the surrounding trees around it, and according to the Sheriff himself, the Mills family and their guest had even gone on a nature hike up to Firefly Hill that overlooked the town.

But the news that spread like wildfire was when Regina, Henry, and Emma had returned from their hike, their uptight and stoic Mayor in fashionable boots and jeans no less, to have cherry pie at the diner. The kicker, as witnessed by numerous members of the community, was that Emma had made Regina laugh.

It was a sound the citizens of Storybrooke had never heard before in Regina's adult years. She shared quiet giggles and smiles with her son, but her privacy and her moments with Henry were sacred and shared with no one. Seeing the Mayor so carefree was something that needed to be seen to be believed, which was why the few lucky residents who had been invited to Henry's birthday, whether they were parents of the children with whom he went to daycare with or like the Lucases who were catering the event, were ecstatic to see the spectacle up close and personal that Saturday afternoon.

"Are those carrots and broccoli?" Emma asked coming into the kitchen once the living room had been sufficiently decorated with castle pin ups and stickers of princesses, knights, and dragons. "They're three."

"And they all have teeth that will rot should they overwhelm themselves with too many sweets. They all will receive their cookie once they get to the decorating station," Regina reasoned as she neatly arranged the assortment of veggies and dip on a platter before fixing the arrangements of apples, grapes, and strawberries on a different one.

"Woah there, one cookie. Don't go overboard with the junk," Emma teased, moving over to the drawer where she had bought a bag full of aluminium foil rolls.

"Are you planning on using the oven?" Regina asked, eyeing the tin foil and already moving to clear away the stove.

"It's for the little prince."

As if on cue, Henry darted into the kitchen, excited for his party. Emma and Regina had a tough time putting him to bed the night before, and both had been disturbed in the middle of the night when Henry had escaped from his room to see if it was time for his party yet. Emma had helped him make a cardboard sword and shield the night before while Regina was cooking dinner, and Emma had been on the unfortunate receiving end of being poked and prodded into waking up at two in the morning. The dining room table still had stubborn traces of glitter to show for their arts and crafts session. Regina had made a mental note to cover her tables with newspapers where the children would be designing their crowns and cookies.

"Are they here yet?" Henry jumped up and down, the sword he made hung through his belt loop swinging carelessly at his hip. "Are they here yet? Are they here yet?"

Emma laughed and caught Regina's eye, muttering, "I bet road trips are fun."

"You have no idea," Regina answered eyeing the hyperactive boy before kneeling down to his level and brushing her fingers through his already mussed hair. "They'll be here soon, dear."

"Come on, kid." Emma crouched down beside Regina and extended a roll of tin foil. "Let's make you a knight."

Regina was a perfectionist, anyone could attest to that. But after three years of planning the best birthday parties she could for her son, the stress and anxiety of any and everything going wrong always took hold of her in some form or another. First it was the clown incident at Henry's first birthday, then it was the food allergy at his second - but honestly, what child is allergic to guava? This year, however, the stress had yet to come, and Regina was waiting anxiously for it to make its presence known.

The Lucases had arrived fifteen minutes prior to the start of the party with their trays of chicken fingers and potato wedges for the children and pasta salad for the adults. Graham had followed shortly after attempting to bring in a piñata, but as soon as Regina saw the candy-stuffed dragon she ushered him out of the door saying how moronic he was and if he wanted the children to poke their eye out with that whacking stick, he could do it at his own child's party. On his way out, the children from Henry's daycare began showing up dressed up in little princess dresses and mini tunics. Regina would have thought them cute if she hadn't been waiting for disaster to strike.

The kids had gone over to the crafting station where they decorated pre-cut crowns before icing their dragon cookies meant to take home along with their loot bag. Now, with Henry decked out in tin foil brandishing his sword and shield, the children hid around the living room where Pongo with a dragon hat strapped to his head attempted to breath his saliva-based fire onto the poor royals of Mills Castle.

"Hi." Emma nudged Regina who watched over the children like a hawk while the invited adults mingled around the room and kitchen. "There's lots of adults here."

"Yes." Regina never took her eyes off the laughing children.

"And you're not talking to any of them," the blonde pointed out, motioning around the room where Ruby was conversing with Pongo's owner, a red-headed balding man with a fondness for tweed, by the presents table, and a few parents had formed a circle in the corner.

"I'm talking to you."

"According to you, I'm a kid."

Finally Regina tore her eyes away from Henry and his friends and cocked an eyebrow at Emma who had an adult-sized cardboard sword slung around her shoulders. "I called you immature because you made one for yourself."

"Oh, come on, this is cool." Emma showed off her sword that she had also covered in foil. An apple was drawn into the helm of the sword that Emma had claimed was the Mills family insignia.

"And what about this?" Regina pressed her hand to foil that was wrapped around Emma's forearms and darted her eyes to her similarly cladded legs.

"The kid wanted to match," she defended.

"And you don't see yourself as a knight," Regina teased, turning back to the children.

Emma rolled her eyes, leaving for just a moment only to return when Regina felt something placed on her head. She automatically reached up to feel a construction paper cone hat with ribbon glued to the tip. She examined it to see the same apple insignia as Emma's sword and Henry's shield placed at the base of the hat. "Then you're a princess," the blonde grinned.

"I'd be a queen." Regina couldn't help but return Emma's smug grin though it was accompanied by an eye roll as she replaced the hat on her head. "Better?"

"Much."

Henry's loud scream made the women jump. There it was, Regina thought. Disaster had struck. But when they turned to the noise, already stepping forward to find the boy, they saw that Henry was pinned under Pongo, the Dalmatian licking him fiercely.

"Help, Mommy! Help, Emma! Dragon eat me!" Henry gasped out between licks.

"The prince of Mills Castle needs some assistance," Emma said in a loud stage voice.

"If only there was a knight around," Regina played along.

Emma smirked and held up her sword, marching toward the swarm of children narrowly avoiding Pongo's licks. "Did somebody say dragon?"

Emma dropped down on the couch, a garbage bag full of gift wrappings, paper plates, and empty juice boxes slumped by her feet. It was only evening, but Emma could already feel the weight of the day tiring her out in the best possible way. She had rescued Prince Henry from the treacherous Pongo, and according to Henry, Queen Regina had to give the brave knight a favour. The napkin with blue and red balloons on it had sufficed and was currently still in Emma's pocket.

Her sword was strapped through her belt loop, and her armour had torn from her battle with the dragon, but to the praise of the children and even with Regina's applause, Emma had won. Now the little prince had been relocated to his bedroom once the festivities were over with, sleep coming exceptionally easy to him that night.

She looked up when Regina entered the room, a plate of red velvet cake in her grasp as she took a seat next to Emma.

"It's the last slice," Regina said, forking a piece into her mouth.

Emma gaped at Regina's coy look as the brunette deliberately forked another piece into her mouth. "Hey, I was waiting for that cake since last night."

Emma was not subtle in stealing Regina's fork and piercing off a healthy amount of cake and cream cheese frosting. She moaned when the cake melted in her mouth. "Damn, I can't believe you made that."

"Are you surprised?" Regina asked taking back the utensil. "And /thank you/ for getting your germs on my fork."

Emma laughed and relaxed back into the couch. "You're welcome."

"This was the first party where there was no incident," Regina said, willingly offering the fork to Emma.

"It's because I was here." Emma took the utensil and ate a piece.

Regina rolled her eyes but didn't deny the claim.

The blonde stretched and draped her arm along the length of the couch, opening her mouth for another piece of cake. She was more than a little surprised when Regina sighed but complied with the blonde's request and fed her some cake.

"So you do this birthday thing every year," Emma questioned.

Regina smirked. "That's generally how birthdays occur."

"Chasing around kids is a full time job," the blonde commented.

Regina laughed once. "You shoot guns for a living and go on reconnaissance missions. Are you telling me a handful of three year olds are more intimidating and tiring than fighting a war?"

"Yes," Emma deadpanned, stealing the fork. Her attempt was futile when Regina moved it out of her grasp. "Hey."

"Your survival skills are lacking, soldier." Regina purposely moved away as Emma raised up on her knees, reaching for the fork.

Emma distracted Regina with her right hand but swiftly leaned up and stole the fork with her left. "Ha!" Emma taunted at Regina's surprised eyes. She split the last piece of cake and offered half to Regina.

"You play dirty," Regina said impressed around her cake.

"You have to if you want to survive." Emma finished off the cake and took the plate from Regina and settled it on the coffee table.

"You could be a politician."

"You could be a drill sergeant."

"I prefer cunning manipulation rather than raising my voice," Regina admitted teasingly.

"Are you sure you weren't a queen in a past life?"

"Judging by Henry's fixation on the medieval period I wouldn't doubt it." Regina stood then, taking Emma's garbage bag and shook it to move the trash to the bottom before tying it up in a neat knot. "We may have spoiled our dinner, but would you like something to eat? I'm sure I can whip up something other than chicken strips."

"After you, Your Majesty."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: Sorry for the late post, but life has caught up with me. Thank you so much for your support! I'm still in the process of answering your reviews, but I hope you guys enjoy the chapter :)

"Look who finally remembered me," August teased as way of greeting when Emma had called her the Sunday after Henry's party. She had returned from her run, and after dressing from her shower, she asked to use Regina's landline to call her friend and check in on him. She was currently in Regina's home office, sitting behind a grand dark oak desk, seated in a leather chair more comfortable than the cot she was used to sleeping on at Camp Victory. The chuckle echoing through the phone made Emma roll her eyes and shake her head.

"I called you three days ago," Emma reminded him, giving a pointed look to the man despite his inability to see her.

"Who knows what could have happened in that time? I could have-" he stopped abruptly, and Emma shut her eyes, pushing away images of the nightmares that still haunted her sleep. The tension that seized her body in mere seconds barely subsided when August cleared his throat and spoke hastily. "Nevermind. I got a cat."

That was enough to make Emma squint and question her hearing. Sure, sometimes there would be an odd ringing in her ear every now and then, but no way did August say what he just said. "What?"

"I got a cat," August repeated. "He's black and white, and I named him Figaro."

"Isn't that the old lady's cat who lives two doors down from you?" Emma wondered, allowing August's absurdity to distract her from his earlier statement. Already the tension in her body was being replaced by complete and utter confusion.

"No," August insisted, though even Emma could hear the petulance in his voice. "He's mine, now."

"Now," she mocked. "August, you can't just take other people's cats."

"I didn't take him. I was coming out of the elevator and he jumped into my lap. The lady has so many already. I let him out at night," he added the last part hastily as if that made his thievery any better.

"I can see your nose growing from here."

"Are you calling me a liar, Corporal?" August assumed his authoritative voice.

Emma laughed before a thought struck her and she asked solemnly, "so have you been drinking?"

There was a brief pause before August answered, almost happy to do so. "I'm actually writing. A lot. Not in a Hemingway kind of way, though. My shrink says it helps get down my thoughts and feelings and all that good stuff."

"You always wanted to write," Emma remembered nostalgically.

"The ladies appreciate it."

"Oh, I bet they're all over your sensitive soul," she gushed.

"That's not the only thing they're over," he said not even waiting to finish his sentence before laughing.

Emma grinned, rolling her eyes at his obnoxiousness. "But you're doing okay?" She asked again, just to make sure.

"Never better, kid."

Emma heard the truth in his answer, joking with him some more before regaling him on how successful Henry's party was. She told him about Regina's cake, and Henry's costume, and how she played with the kids, and even how they trekked through the forest a couple days ago and how she taught Regina and Henry how to track and which plants were poisonous to touch.

"I'm gonna take him to the store today so he can pick out a bike," Emma finished.

"You're getting him a bike?" August asked surprised.

"A little tricycle thing. They come with handles for adults to push. Kids like that, right?" Emma asked suddenly self-conscious of her choice of gift. There was a long silence on August's end, and Emma suddenly rifled her through her childhood memories desperately trying to think of what she wanted when she was three. Well, she was sent back to the orphanage, but that was beside the point. Henry had a ton of stuffed animals already. A book, maybe? Was there a Chuck-E-Cheese around here where she could take him?

"You really like her, don't you?" August questioned by way of response, interrupting Emma's laundry list of possible gifts.

She paused, reading between the lines of his question but squinting nonetheless. "Yeah, she's my friend."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Emma rolled her eyes and sighed obnoxiously. Sometimes it sucked that August had been there for a few key years of her adolescence. "Just 'cause I fooled around as a kid doesn't mean I'm in love with every pretty girl that crosses my path."

August barked out a laughter, and Emma didn't have to see him to know there was a smug grin on his face. Her few days at his apartment let Emma know that with his time home, he had caught quite a bit of daytime television. Translation: August was into soaps. The sound of his pleased laughter was a sure sign that he soaked in Emma's life vicariously like the soap operas on his TV. "First off, no one said anything about being in love. Second, she's pretty, huh?"

"I didn't say that," Emma whispered, heat rising to her cheeks as she eyed the door in fear that Regina might overhear their conversation.

"Are you denying it?" Emma's silence was enough for August and prompted him to ask, "are you blushing?"

"No," Emma said forcefully, an octave higher than she intended. She looked up at the door again in case her volume jarred anyone. So far she was in the clear. August's pleased chuckling was beginning to grind on Emma's nerves. They may have been older now, but fighting side by side clearly did nothing to take away August's big brother mentality when relationships were involved, especially when those were Emma's relationships. Emma sighed, running her hand through her hair and huffed out a groan in compliance. "Yeah, she's really gorg- you know what, no, this is not what we're talking about right now."

His chuckle grew into a laugh. "Okay, Em."

She smirked for the time being, claiming that as a battle won. "I'll be back to Boston in a couple days."

There was another pause from August, but this time Emma could tell he was concocting something. Instead of interrupting, she waited until he spoke again. "You should stay," he revealed sincerely.

Emma shut her eyes, partially fearing his suggestion yet relieved at the same time. Her week with Regina and Henry had been nothing short of amazing. Any fears and worries she had upon her arrival were completely wiped away with the more time she spent with them. Like the homes she had lived in as a kid, the schools she had transferred in and out of, Emma knew it wouldn't last. Not only would she be back in Georgia in less than three weeks' time, but Regina had work, and Henry was due back in daycare. The euphoric bubble they had lived in over the past week was soon to pop, and it would be in everybody's best interest if Emma just accepted the fact.

"I can't," Emma reasoned after a long pause.

"You can't, or you won't?"

"Regina's going back to work tomorrow," she argued. "She already took a week off to show me around, and she's the Mayor."

"Did you ever think maybe she wants you to stay too?" At Emma's scoff, August continued persistently. "Come on, Em, you were always chasing after you want whether you were allowed to or not, what's so different now?"

"The threat of a potential record will help ease that some," she answered dryly.

"You're not some teenager who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks anymore," he reminded her. "You came home from a year-long tour. If some sleepy town is your happy place, then why leave it? Stay."

Emma bit her lip and leaned forward to rest her elbow on the desk. "Is that an order, sir?"

August chuckled once, not from amusement but rather as a preclude before he embarked his words of wisdom. "No. It's up to you two."

"You live here, Emma?" Henry asked, casually sipping his juice from a big boy cup as he, Emma, and Regina sat around the dinner table that night.

Emma's eyes widened comically while Regina's eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. The two women shared a hesitant glance before turning toward the three-year old who continued to sip on his apple juice.

Emma leaned over and squeezed Henry's arm apologetically. "No, I gotta go back to Boston soon."

"You do?" Regina asked suddenly.

Emma whipped her head to the brunette who was burning a hole in Emma with her steady gaze. If Emma wasn't mistaken, she could have sworn she saw a hint of disappointment pooling in deep brown eyes. She was fairly adept at reading people, and despite the wall Regina maintained for everyone else, Emma continued to see right through it. Though that constant insecurity of overstaying her welcome creeped to the surface of her skin. The military couldn't kick her out, not if she followed orders, but her foster parents, hell, her real parents, August, and even Regina, they all had a say in her time in a place. But there Regina was with disappointment in her eyes, and the cycle repeated all over again.

Emma shook her head to clear her mind and shrugged half-heartedly. "Well I got to go back to Georgia in a couple weeks."

Regina briefly knit her brows as if she forgot Emma's time with them was limited. To be fair, Emma nearly forgot too. Before she could open her mouth to suggest they come to Boston with her or for her to stay longer or anything, Regina nodded and painted on a tight-lipped smile, one, Emma came to notice, she used only while she was discussing politics or accommodating her many mayoral duties. She had never used it in Emma's presence, and that left a sour taste in her mouth. "Of course."

With that, Regina turned to Henry and looked pointedly. "You, young man, have a bath with your name on it."

"How come Emma go?" Henry asked as Regina sat on the lip of his tub, the water warm and frothed with green watermelon scented bath wash.

"She has to go back to work, sweetie," Regina explained, tipping his head back to ease a cup full of water to wet his hair.

As usual, he covered his eyes and blew raspberries at the trickles of water that escaped his head to track over his mouth. Regina couldn't help but glare playfully, using her hand to wipe his face dry before reaching for his shampoo.

"She come back later?" Henry had now commandeered one of his many toy sail boats, dunked it under the water, then sprung it up from the depths of the tub, effectively splashing the floor, the wall, and his mother in the process.

Regina paused in wiping off the water droplets from her cheeks as she took his question into consideration. Would Emma return? She knew it wasn't up to Emma whether she was sent overseas. How often did they get shipped out anyway? Surely one was enough and Emma could fulfil the rest of her duty at home base. Regina was going to have to ask Sidney to dig into the ins and outs of the US Army for her.

"Mommy?" Henry reclaimed her attention.

"Hmm?" Regina snapped to attention and squeezed a healthy portion of shampoo into her palm before lathering it into her son's hair.

"Emma come back?" He repeated, though this time he stopped his playing and held his mother's gaze. Regina had to suppress her chuckle when the look Henry was giving her was the same one she gave her subordinates when they failed to meet her standards. Nurture seemed to take precedence in that case.

Regina rinsed off her soapy hand into the water then palmed Henry's cheek, smiling softly at the hope and wonder brightening his eyes. "I hope so, dear."

Satisfied with the answer, Henry continued his playing, first sculpting his soaped hair into a single spike before making an engine noise with his lips as he and his boat traversed the bath.

Regina found, as she sat on the closed toilet lid watching Henry play in the bath, that she was extremely nervous about Emma's leaving to Boston. They never discussed the length of time Emma would be visiting, though Regina had just assumed she would stay for the duration of her leave. Of course she would want to return to Boston. August was the closest thing she had to family, and she would want to spend as much time with him as possible, especially as he dealt with his recovery.

It suddenly occurred to Regina how much she enjoyed Emma in their life. Emma had come waltzing in some beat up monstrosity, and for the first time in a very long time, Regina felt a companionship that was different than being a mother to Henry or a Mayor of a small town. The camaraderie was there over the course of their letter-writing, but this past week had strengthened that. Regina had taken a mini vacation after all. The only other time she had taken days off of work was when Henry had come down with that unnatural stomach flu, and she and Henry had spent a day or two in the hospital investigating the cause. And now it seemed the days were cut short. Perhaps she could persuade her to stay. But that wouldn't be fair. But when did Regina Mills ever play fair?

"I'm raisin-y." Henry held up his wrinkled hands to show his mother who smiled fondly, tearing herself away from her thoughts and returning to her spot on the lip of the tub to grab his palms and press kisses to each finger.

"Yes you are, my little grape," Regina said tickling under his arm. She ran the faucet and unplugged the drain before reclaiming the cup and filling it with new water. "Let's get you rinsed up, dear."

"That kid likes his stories," Emma whispered as Regina partially closed the door of his room.

Regina let out a breathy laugh, paired with a face that indicated her years of motherhood certainly had her experienced in the art of bedtime. "You have no idea. You're lucky you weren't here a few weeks ago when he somehow convinced me to read his entire collection of Dr. Seuss. We have ten books, and they're not short either."

"Weak," Emma teased, following Regina to her study where she poured them a drink.

Regina sat on one end of the couch, sipping casually on her cider as Emma sat on the opposite end, a foot curled under her leg after she had settled her drink on the coffee table, on top of the coaster as she had learned. The clock on the mantle ticked slowly, and in the quiet of the room, the soft tick amplified making the silence known. After thirty ticks, to Regina's count, she opened her mouth to break the silence. "Emma-"

"So-"

They chuckled, and Emma motioned with her hand for Regina to take the lead. Regina cleared her throat and leaned over the couch to nestle her glass on the table there before leaning back into the leather, taking the movement as an excuse to gather her thoughts.

"Henry is very excited about his new tricycle," Regina said hastily. "Thank you."

Emma smiled. "You said that when I bought it."

"You didn't have to go to that much trouble."

"You said that too."

"I just mean-"

"I know," Emma cut her off, pushing off the couch and placed her hand on Regina's knee, squeezing it in reassurance. "It's easy to save when I don't have a lot of things or people to spend it on, and I hadn't gotten him a gift yet. That helps make up for keeping me sane all those years."

This time it was Regina who smiled, squeezing Emma's palm in earnest. "I agree his drawings are priceless, but-"

"But it was worth it," Emma insisted, her sincere yet cheeky smile making the lines of stress that usually clouded her face disappear in an instant.

Regina conceded, nodding her head in agreement, though what she was agreeing to, Regina wasn't quite sure. She just knew there was an understanding between her and the blonde. An understanding that ran deeper than the knowledge that they both wanted to extend this euphoric bubble they found themselves in. It was an understanding that despite different upbringings, it was the little things - the constant letters, Henry's art, well wishes, and the oddest touches that meant more than just reassurance - that either woman yearned for yet felt unworthy of. And with that thought, Regina was loathed to let that bubble pop just yet.

"So, you've been here for a week. Was Storybrooke all that you expected?" Regina finally voiced, clasping her hands over a knee.

"It's definitely different than the cities I used to live in," Emma chuckled but lowered her voice with sincerity, watching Regina intently as green eyes held brown. "But I found a couple things I'd come back and see."

Regina arched an eyebrow and tilted her head at the implication. She hid her tinting cheeks behind a smirk and retrieved her glass, lifting it into the air for a toast. "Well, to your return then."

Emma followed suit and finished the rest of her cider in one go, placing the empty tumbler back onto the coaster.

The ticking filled their silence once more before Regina broke it again, this time with an indignant huff as if her brain had forced her mouth to speak. "Do you really have to go?"

Emma nodded apologetically. "I signed off for only a month's leave."

"No," Regina shook her head. "I mean do you really have to return to Boston."

"Oh." There was surprise in Emma's tone, but Regina could see there was also a little hope shining through green eyes and the makings of a smile playing on the blonde's lips. At least Regina had the courage to talk about the elephant in the room. "Yeah, no, I mean, August found a cat to keep him company."

"So," Regina drawled with a questioning gaze, "you are eager to see his new cat?"

Emma snorted out a laugh. "No. Plus, I'm pretty sure he stole it."

Regina raised an eyebrow that Emma immediately interpreted as confusion, but instead of addressing August and his elusive cat, Emma shook her head and amended her statement. "I mean, it's not absolutely necessary to go back to Boston."

"So..." Regina drawled with a grin.

"So," Emma mimicked with the same expression.

"Henry is eagerly waiting to ride his new present to the park."

"That'll be fun," Emma said leaning back into the cushions.

"And perhaps during the day I can bring you to the office so you won't be bored."

"Not as fun," Emma teased.

"My, you don't find budget reports and census surveys titillating?" Regina quipped.

"About as titillating as you find tank engines and gun powder, but..." Emma smirked as she tilted her head, "the company is pretty enticing."

"Can't argue that."

"So I can stay?" Emma clarified sheepishly.

"Yes," Regina nodded. "I'd like you to."

"Good." Emma used her smirk to hide her grin.

"Awesome."

Emma made a face. "It's better when I say it."

Regina rolled her eyes and stood, making her way out of the office and leaving a pleasantly pleased Emma sprawled out on the couch.

Regina was known across town as being rigid, strict, and had a plan for everything which she rarely veered off from. She was also known for biting off the heads of anyone who got in her way or was some anomaly in her plan. That was why it was so strange to see Mayor Mills back at work with Emma Swan in tow.

The stories of what had occurred during young Henry Mills' birthday party where the stoic Mayor had spent nearly all the time glued to the blonde outsider's side and didn't complain when she placed a paper hat on her head had spread across town like wildfire. Theories erupted that perhaps Emma was Henry's godmother who was only there for his party, but seeing the duo at town hall shut that theory down quickly.

It was Sidney who helped clarify the situation while he stopped by the diner for a coffee mid morning. He took pride in Emma's presence, telling eager ears that she was a soldier their Mayor had been corresponding with because of his cunning suggestion. In fact, he was on his way to her office to discuss that human interest piece he was constantly hounding Regina for, and what better way to start the article then asking the soldier herself?

"No, Sidney," Regina huffed and dropped a file folder down onto the board room table harshly to emphasize her point. She ignored the snickering coming from Emma beside her as the blonde desperately tried to hide her amused expression behind a file she was supposed to be organizing.

Sidney had knocked on Regina's office door ten minutes prior and found Regina and Emma, not at her desk where he had expected but at the board room table where Regina held her more important meetings. He began talking animatedly about his piece, bestowing praises on Emma and clutching his camera for a chance to take a picture of the two. All it took was a quick glance to Emma for Regina to realize that the reporter's over enthusiasm was making Emma uncomfortable, and with a quick twist of her tongue, Regina had silenced the man in his tracks. He was persistent, however, and despite his stammering, he continued to list off the positives of what would come from his article, even going as far as producing a rough draft which included quotes Regina was sure were fabricated.

At that point, Regina had slammed her paperwork down and hissed his name, her deadly glare making Sidney shrink into his oversized trenchcoat. She stood slowly, her domineering presence rising as she was with her palms pressed into the marble table top, her eyes never leaving Sidney's shifty, wounded gaze.

"Mr. Glass, as I have already informed you, not for the first time I might add, neither Corporal Swan nor I are interested in being subjects of your paper for the time being. She is here for only a short time, and I think it would be wise not to parade her around town like some zoo animal when we already owe her so much for protecting our country, wouldn't you agree?" Regina raised an eyebrow daring Sidney to question her.

"No, no, of course not," Sidney stuttered, bowing his head. "My apologies."

When Sidney backed out of the room and Regina had settled down in her chair, she couldn't help but feel eyes on her and looked up to see Emma, a large smirk adorning her face. "What?"

"You get off on that, don't you?"

"Excuse me?" Regina asked appalled.

"Not like that," Emma abated quickly, though the smirk was still on her face. "You like the power trip."

"I am the Mayor," Regina reasoned. "I need to exert my authority over those less inclined to respect it."

"Right, and watching people squirm?"

"The perks of the job." Regina rolled a shoulder casually though the amusement on her face was evident.

"Well thank you, anyway."

Regina furrowed her brow and looked up from her papers. "What for?"

Emma rung her hands and gave a tight lipped smile. "I'm not used to people investigating my life unless they're trying to put me in another home."

Regina nodded, understanding the reason behind Emma's thanks. The young woman was and would continue to be almost as private as Regina. "Don't mind Sidney, he's anything if not dedicated to his job. I'm sure Storybrooke will have another scandal for him to report on."

"I hear the Mayor is the head of organized crime," the blonde joked.

"I'll let the underground drug cartel know you're on to them," Regina teased back.

Another knock at the door interrupted their laugh, and this time, even Emma looked annoyed.

The Sheriff whom she had met at the party peeked his head in and had the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry to interrupt, Madam Mayor."

"What is it, Graham?" Regina asked shortly.

He stepped fully into the room, his hands clasped around his belt. "Pan's boys again. They've vandalized another building - Mr. French this time. They've gone missing, but Maurice is threatening to press charges."

"They'll be wards of the state if they get one more charge against them," Regina argued, nearly rising from her seat.

"That's why I'm letting you know."

Regina sighed and pressed two fingers to her temple conflicted. "Do you have any idea where they are?"

When Graham shrugged, Emma looked between the two Storybrooke officials and spoke up. "They probably split up." When they both looked at her she continued. "When I was younger, a few friends and I got into some bad trouble, and it's easier to hide when there's more targets to find. They'd split up in different directions and lay low. I'd check the woods. You said they're kids?"

"Early teens," Graham confirmed.

"They're orphans?"

"More or less. A guardian who couldn't care less about their well-being," Regina answered with conviction.

Emma nodded, knowing very well what that was like. "They're angry and scared too. They'd want some familiarity right now, so check some obvious places. Known hideouts but secret rooms you didn't think to check."

"You talk from experience," Graham noted.

"First hand," the blonde confirmed with a slightly smug smirk.

"Do you have first hand experience in finding them?"

Emma turned from Graham to Regina and back again. "Yeah, I can find anyone," she said. "Search and rescue is kind of my forte. That's how I got promoted."

She caught the small proud smile teasing Regina's lips before the Sheriff spoke again.

"How would you like to be an honorary deputy for the day?" Graham asked.

Emma's eyes widened. "Me?"

She looked to Regina who seemed to be taking to proposition in thought. Finally the brunette nodded. "If you find them in time and talk some sense into them then perhaps we can convince Mr. French to drop the charges."

Emma considered it and nodded. She stood and slipped her arms into her leather jacket. "Okay."

Graham pulled up to Town Hall and placed the cruiser into park hours later. It had taken a good chunk of time to find the twins in the woods, but the other two teens who had hid out in an abandoned shack and the clock tower were relatively easy, given Emma's advice. It's where Emma would have hidden if she had no other options in this town. Seeing the boys, Emma was reminded of herself at that age, alone and pissed at the world. From what she picked up from Graham, the boys' guardian, a young man old enough to be their big brother didn't give two shits about them and spent his days reliving high school glory days. She had taken the eldest aside, a scruffy sixteen-year old with a scowl and a temper to match, and got him to tell her about vandalizing the shop. He had scoffed at her "it gets better" speech, but when she showed him her dog tags and clasped his shoulder, she promised that with a little guidance and some good decision making, he and his brothers wouldn't be as lost anymore.

"I don't know how you did it, but if you ever decide to be a Deputy, Storybrooke could always use an extra pair of hands."

Emma grinned and shook her head. "Not really a fan of your uniform."

"You can wear your own from what I hear," he enticed.

The idea of settling down in this town quickly coursed through Emma's mind. Apparently she already had a job, and she could see Regina and the kid every day. What was better than that?

At Emma's contemplative silence, Graham smirked and continued to enhance his offer. "If you want, I'll even look for a place for you to live."

"Oh." Emma said aloud when she realized that in her mind's eye, she'd be walking home to the mansion on Mifflin. She swallowed sharply at the thought, her mind betraying her. She was sure to give August an earful for planting thoughts into her mind. She shook her head and smiled again. "Ask me that again when I'm done my active duty."

"I'll keep that in mind." Graham waved as Emma stepped out of the cruiser and made her way back into the building.

Graham's offer continued to ring in Emma's ear, and during the walk from the lobby, past the court room, up the flight of stairs, to Regina's office, Emma seriously contemplated freshening up her résumé for the chance to stay in Storybrooke. She had only been in town for more than a week and she could see herself living there? God, there must be some magic in Storybrooke's water or something. Emma never liked to stay anywhere. Which was ironic since she constantly looked for home, but now? Now she wanted to stay. Well then, she thought, shrugging her leather jacket closer around her, that's a concern for another day.

Her fist was raised to knock on the partially closed office door when she heard the phone inside Regina's office slam down and the brunette emit an aggravated groan. Emma knocked twice and stuck her head inside offering a sheepish smile. "Bad day?"

"Long day," Regina corrected, walking briskly toward a filing cabinet and selecting key folders. "Some investors have pulled through on a project that needs to be finalized by 8 am tomorrow. I have to stay and discuss tactics with them and sign off on their tasks."

Emma looked down at her watch to see it was nearly five. "I can pick up Henry," Emma offered. "We can come back here and have dinner with you."

Regina took a moment to look up from the cabinet to smile thoughtfully at Emma. "I appreciate that, but I can't wager how long I'll be here, and he tends to get aggravated when waiting too long in my office. Perhaps you and Henry can have a night in with yourselves?"

"Yeah, I think I can manage without burning the place down," Emma teased as she followed Regina to a picture frame where behind it she kept a safe.

Regina ignored Emma's seriously? look at the safe before inputting the code and retrieving the spare house key.

"All that for a key?" Emma eyed the small piece of metal.

"I take safety very seriously, soldier," Regina explained haughtily though Emma simply grinned and nodded.

"I'll pick up the kid and see you at home." Emma squeezed Regina's arm on her way past her before calling out over her shoulder, "try not to make anyone cry while I'm gone."

"I make no promises."

Regina was exhausted by the time she stepped out of her heels, placing then delicately on the shoe rack inside her hallway closet and allowed her toes to breathe for the first time all day. Regina had worked efficiently in order to get the investors out of her office by 8, allowing her to walk through her door at 8:30. She was expecting the first floor to be quiet for Henry was scheduled to be in bed half an hour prior, but the indistinct chatter in her living room led her to believe that her son had successfully conned Emma into a later bedtime.

She placed her briefcase quietly on the side table and walked softly on the hardwood to inspect the culprits. She stopped just shy of the living room entrance, partially hidden by the wall, and couldn't help but let the wide smile that was forming on her face to bloom.

Emma was lying on her stomach behind the couch with what appeared to be eyeliner marks under her eyes like a football player. Henry, who was hidden under the coffee table, sported similar marks on his cheeks as he remained low to the ground as well.

"Pssh," Emma mimicked radio static as she spoke into a fisted hand, oblivious to Regina's presence at the entrance of the room, "the target is in sight, Commander. Do you read me? Over."

"Loud and clear," Henry nodded seriously.

"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is search and rescue, Commander. One of our own has been captured and it is your duty to bring them back."

"No one gets left behind," Henry replied, and from the slight smirk on his face, Regina could tell it was a phrase Emma had just recently taught him.

"Exactly. On three. One, two, three."

On three, both Emma and Henry moved from their spots, crawling on their stomachs toward what Regina could see as one of Henry's dragons hidden behind the fireplace gate Regina had installed when Henry was a baby.

Regina nearly moved to pick up Henry when the boy bonked his head on the underside of the table, but he muttered a simple "ouch", rubbing the bump and proceeded on his mission toward the dragon. She didn't realize how big he was getting until then. Before every bump and bruise was soothed by a kiss, but now her little prince simply soldiered on.

"Approaching enemy lines, Commander. Stay low," Emma narrated as she met up beside Henry. He gave up on the crawling and pulled himself to his feet, racing towards the gate.

He caught the dragon in between the gates and pulled it up, reaching over to free it and hug it to his chest. "Rescue complete."

Emma laughed and reared up on her knees, speaking into her makeshift walkie-talkie. "Pssh, search and rescue completed. Let's go home, soldier."

She picked up Henry in her arms and stood, turning to find Regina.

Regina raised an eyebrow, her arms folded across her chest and a knowing smirk on her face. "The mission went well, Corporal?"

"Yes ma'am," Emma nodded, grinning when she realized she wasn't in trouble, for the time being at least.

"Rescue complete!" Henry repeated, launching himself into Regina's arm when Emma closed the distance between them.

"You certainly are a brave hero," Regina nuzzled his cheek and pressed a kiss there. "And brave heroes need their rest."

"I promised him one more mission," Emma explained.

"And two stories," Henry reminded her, holding up three fingers.

"I did, didn't I?" Emma asked, lowering one of his fingers. "Well, let's go, little soldier."

Regina set Henry down and let him lead up the stairs as she walked beside Emma, smirking at the blonde. "Extended playtime and two stories. Who's the weak one now?"

Emma had decidedly taken up Graham's offer, for the time being. When Regina had noticed Emma's eyes begin to drift at the paperwork she was supposed to be reading, Regina had suggested that Graham was always looking for extra help around the station, and it was in the same building anyhow so their paths would cross eventually. Emma found that despite the small town, going on patrol with Graham, and occasionally settling disputes throughout the day, was quite fulfilling. It was like being out on patrol in the Middle East, except a lot more safer and a lot less humid. There were no rifles or bombs or dead- Emma shook off those thoughts quickly, reminding herself of where she was. She had worked with Graham for two days now, and already she was starting to feel as if she were truly part of the town.

Today, however, Regina had finished work early, and she, Henry, and Emma had opted on enjoying the late April weather at the park. She was glad Henry was so smitten with Emma for it gave her the opportunity to catch up on her latest novel, but despite her eyes being glued to the page, she couldn't help but glance over the top of the book as Henry chased Emma around the jungle gym. Her eyes followed her son as his stout legs ran haphazardly, kicking up the sand in the process. Emma had slowed her pace some, letting Henry touch her with his outstretched fingers before suddenly she jumped up, pulling herself up on a high horizontal bar and swinging herself up and over the pull up beam, landing gracefully behind a still running Henry who hadn't seen it coming. Regina gasped at the move, but her shock was immediately replaced with soft laughter as Henry also realized what had just occurred and stared up at Emma in awe. Henry had barely enough time to run before Emma caught him around the middle and tickled his sides. A loud obnoxious laugh emitted from him as he squirmed in Emma's grasp.

Regina hid her laugh behind her book, but it was no use for Emma caught her eye and grinned, putting all of Henry's weight on one arm to wave at Regina mouthing a breathy 'hi'. Regina shook her head playfully and waved back, though why she didn't have a good enough explanation for.

"Ms. Tina!" Henry yelled, wiggling out of Emma's grasp.

Both women looked to see Henry running towards his pre-school teacher, Ms. Tina Bell, a petite woman with tight blonde curls and a New Zealand accent. Regina placed her book back into the large bag that held anything Henry could ever need and stood, making her way toward the teacher as courteous as ever.

"Ms. Bell," Regina greeted, extending out her hand cordially once Tina had released Henry from his impromptu hug. She motioned to Emma beside her. "You remember Ms. Swan?"

"'Course," Tina smiled. "Emma's picked up Henry before. And from what Felix has told me, she had quite the talk with him the other day."

"Really?" Regina inquired while Emma shrugged half-heartedly.

"He's a good kid. They all are," Emma defended.

"That's what I keep telling them," Tina agreed. "They just have to believe it themselves."

"And how are the other children treating you?" Regina asked.

"They keep me busy," she nodded before turning toward Henry. "Don't forget to bring in your favourite leaf tomorrow."

He nodded enthusiastically before running off to the swings where he rested his belly on the big kid's swing and let his feet hover in the air.

"So," Tina smiled a bit too knowingly for Regina's liking as she looked between herself and Emma. "You two enjoying the park together?"

"Yeah, the parks I grew up with had only one working swing and rusty metal slides," Emma said.

"You'll enjoy this one," Tina said. "Mayor Mills designed it herself."

"Yeah, Regina was telling me about that," Emma flashed a smile at the brunette who returned one in kind. "A castle for the little prince?"

"Yes, Henry does seem to believe it is his own private castle." The three women looked to see Henry, still resting his stomach on the swing though now he was walking in small circles, coiling up the chain until his tippy toes barely reached the ground. Regina gasped and opened her mouth to call out to him, but Emma held her hand, stopping the words before they had a chance to form.

"Watch, he'll be fine," she soothed. Sure enough, when Henry could no longer spin himself, he lifted his feet off the ground and let the chain unwind, spinning him and the swing at a moderate pace. He squealed in delight, stretching his arms out like wings until his feet finally touched the ground again. "See? He's a natural."

"He could get hurt," Regina worried.

"Yeah, but you'll be there to kiss the boo-boos and chase away the nightmares."

Regina curled her fingers reflexively into Emma's palm, letting the blonde's thumb rub circles along her skin soothingly before nodding her agreement. "I suppose."

The two women continued to watch Henry spin, effectively forgetting about the daycare teacher thrilled to be in their presence. By Henry's third spin, Tina Bell cleared her throat.

"Well," she said loudly, finally regaining their attention, though, she realized, their hands remained clasped, "don't let me interrupt your time together." Tina gave them one more once over, doing little to hide a smirk before taking off down the path.

"Hmm," Emma mused watching the other blonde go. "Did you two used to know each other?"

"It's a small town, dear, everyone knows each other."

"Mommy!" Henry called, now suddenly attempting to pull himself into the baby swing all by himself.

Regina held up a finger, finally realizing how long they had been holding hands and slipped her palm out of Emma's grasp, noticing the immediate cold that came with it but refused to think much of it. She walked back to the bench she had previously vacated to open the tote, taking out her book, a juice box, a small container full of animal crackers, and a mini first aid kit before finding the small pouch of wipes. Ignoring Emma's smirk, Regina cut off the sarcastic comment that was sure to escape her lips by retrieving a wipe and walking over to the swing, giving it a thorough wipe down before hoisting Henry into the seat.

"Do you want me to get the antibacterial spray too?" Emma asked from the bench as she repacked the tote.

"I don't think I packed it in there." It was Emma's obnoxious snort that made Regina glare at the blonde. Trust Emma to constantly poke fun at her. "Keep laughing, Ms. Swan. You'll think of me when you're somewhere in need of antibacterial wipes with the looming presence of fungus surrounding you."

"I'll probably think of you before that," Emma replied casually, stopping in her tracks realizing what she said.

"What?"

"Mommy," Henry whined, kicking his legs to get the swing going. Both women looked at him, thankful for the distraction and immediately tended to his immediate swing-pushing needs.

Regina patted his arm before giving a firm push.

"You can also raise him in a plastic bubble," Emma argued, coming to the front of the swing set and catching Henry's feet, tickling his calves before releasing him.

"Nonsense, that's impractical. How will he get down the stairs?"

Emma tilted her head and paused. "I can't tell if that's a joke or if you seriously considered it."

Regina simply smirked and pushed Henry just a little bit higher, gasping with him as he stretched a hand out to touch the sky.

"So Ms. Tina," Emma began as they took turns pushing Henry back and forth in the swing, "she seems nice."

"She is," Henry answered. "She show us bugs today, and she play with us, and she sings." He cautioned both hands into the air, and when his mother didn't scold him, he stretched them high past his head. "Look, Mommy!"

"I see, sweetie. You're flying," Regina grinned, letting Henry swing naturally without their aid, though she provided a hand on his back now and then. "I suppose she is. Henry likes her well enough. She also runs a youth group for those teenage boys that have been causing you and Graham trouble lately."

"She told me," Emma commended with a nod. "You're not friends with her?"

Regina scoffed, pushing lightly on Henry's back on his return to her side.

"You see her nearly everyday."

"I see many people daily."

Emma shrugged. "Why not? She's pretty and nice."

"I wasn't aware those were the only qualifications I needed when looking for a friend."

"Well..." Emma grinned coyly and motioned to herself.

Regina rolled her eyes and pushed Henry just a little bit harder so his sandy shoes nudged Emma back a step.

The boy laughed at the game and kicked his feet out. "I get you."

Emma shook her head at Regina but played along when Henry returned to her side, feet outstretched with intent. She made a collision noise and clutched her jaw. "Geez, when did you get so strong?"

Henry giggled happily. "Milk and greens."

"Good boy," Regina said affectionately, kissing his head when he swung back.

Emma pretended to get hurt another five times before Henry grabbed at Regina's lapel and used her surprised body to pull himself to a stop. She nearly collided into the seat, her heels not helping her balance in the slightest, but she released her son from the swing nonetheless and watched as he ran to the trike Emma had gotten for him and retrieved a small bucket and shovel from the basket attached behind the seat.

"Seriously though, why don't you be friends with her?" Emma continued her questioning as she and Regina returned to the bench a few feet away from where Henry had perched himself in the sand pit.

"Sick of me already?" There was a playfulness in Regina's tone, but even she could feel the vulnerability in her eyes that she couldn't quite blink away.

Emma smirked and nudged Regina's shoulder with her own. "No way. Just wondering something."

"What?" They sat in the middle of the bench, instinctively sitting side by side.

The blonde bit her lip and outstretched both arms along the back of the bench, unaware that her right arm was mere inches away from straddling Regina's shoulders. In a quiet voice, she asked, "what are you gonna do when I go back?"

Regina squinted and turned slightly to face Emma. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know what lonely looks like," the blonde sighed and cut Regina off when the older woman moved to speak. "I know, you've got Henry."

Regina pursed her lips but tilted her head. "Well I'm making marvelous friends with the postal workers."

"You know that's not what I mean. I'm just, I'm looking out for you I guess." Emma removed her arms and wrung her hands in her lap. Regina could see, despite Emma's bowed head and falling curls blocking most of her face that her cheeks were tinting pink at the admission.

Regina squinted again, this time in genuine confusion. "Why would you do that?"

Emma let out a snort of derision as she brought her head up and smiled softly. "Come on. I care about you. And I don't know if I'm gonna be halfway across the world this time next month, and I just want to make sure you're okay when I go. I just want to know that someone is gonna be here for you if I can't."

Regina's breath caught in her throat, and she ducked her head to catch Emma's eye, searching the deep green of them for any sign of a lie. Emma was so insistent Regina was sure that there was some ulterior motive behind her words but all she could see was genuine concern and sincerity. Would this woman cease to surprise her? "Why would you do that?" Regina asked again, softer this time.

Emma smiled and let her hand fall over Regina's knee and squeezed affectionately. "I just think the town's missing out."

"On what?"

"On you."

They had spent another twenty minutes at the park, watching as Henry attempted to make the "biggest bestest sand castle ever", but when Regina caught him dampening the sand with his juice box, she had called it a day. They were now walking home, Regina lightly holding onto the handle of the tricycle as Henry, decked out in a helmet, elbow, knee, and wrist pads as per Regina's request, rode on, constantly veering to the left and needing help getting unstuck whenever his tire caught in between the grass and sidewalk.

It was a relatively quiet late afternoon as the trio walked, and it gave Emma the chance to stop and think, something she tried to avoid for it tended to lead to the dark places of her past that she fought hard to avoid. But this time, Emma realized how lucky she had been. Standing in front of the judge giving her the choice between boot camp or juvie had seemed like a death sentence. It wasn't until right now, walking down Brighton and occasionally passing now familiar faces did Emma realize that being sent to boot camp may have been the best thing that had ever happened to her.

It got her here.

She glanced up covertly, using her hair as a shield to glance up at Regina who tsked lightly at Henry who purposely rode through a small puddle. A smile tugged on her lips as she watched the scowl disappear on Regina's face when Henry turned around, nearly bringing the tricycle with him, to grin up innocently at his mother.

Regina was known across town as being rigid, strict, and had a plan for everything that she rarely veered off from, and for some strange reason that even Emma couldn't fathom, Emma was part of Regina's plan.

"Are you all right?" Regina asked, pressing a palm to Emma's shoulder, the weight and warmth of it already a source of comfort to the young woman.

The blonde nodded, and yeah, she was all right. "Are you doing anything Friday?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Friday. Did you want to hang out or something?"

Regina furrowed her brow as if the idea of hanging out was a foreign concept, and Emma realized it probably was. "Hang out?"

Emma shrugged, adjusting the tote around her shoulder but held her head up high. "Dinner? Movie? Just the two of us?"

"Just you and I?"

"You're starting to sound like a parrot," Emma chuckled. "Yeah, I mean, you've been so awesome-" Emma glared at Regina's smirk "-with letting me into your home and sending me all those care packages and gifts. I just want to make it up to you by taking you out."

"It's really not necessary, Emma."

"I know." Emma caught Regina's hand and tugged her a little to halt their walking. Henry hadn't seemed to mind since he couldn't get very far on his own anyhow and busied himself with making car noises. Emma stared insistently into Regina's eyes and squeezed her palm. "Please? Seriously, dinner doesn't even skim the surface of how much I appreciate this."

"Appreciate what?" Regina asked with her hand still in Emma's.

"This." Emma motion between them. "You and me."

"Us," Regina confirmed as she got a feel for the word in her mouth.

"Yeah," the blonde grinned. "Us."

They remained rooted in the spot as Emma waited, unknowingly with bated breath, for an answer. A car drove by, and a family of robins flew overhead before Regina retracted her palm from Emma's and continued to push Henry in the tricycle. It took Emma another half-second to move, unsure what that meant. Her uncertainty faded and a smile ripped across her face when she saw Regina give an almost imperceptible nod.

"I suppose I can find a sitter for Friday."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: My favourite thing about the response from the last chapter was that everyone assumed it was a date. You and I know that, but let's see how the ladies fare ;)

The diner was buzzing on Thursday evening. Not only was the special Granny's famous tuna fish casserole that she made only when she felt like it, but Ms. Tina Bell was bursting with news when she turned onto the patio. The running was partially due to the fact that she told the Pan boys she would buy them dinner if they stayed in school for that week - she couldn't wrangle those boys into school on a Friday even if she had pixie dust. But she had other news she was sure Ruby would thoroughly enjoy.

She pushed open the door with a strength unnatural for her petite size, the bell above it nearly falling off its hinges. The diner was crowded with Leroy and his friends huddled around two pushed together tables and sharing a casserole to themselves, the Tillmans in the corner booth with shakes in front of the twins, and a very pregnant Ashley, sitting atop the bar stool with her head ducked closely with Ruby's as they spoke animatedly.

"So she actually got Mayor Mills to wear a paper crown?" inquired the blonde.

"Yup," Ruby confirmed, wiping down the counter. "It was cute. They all had an apple drawn on it like a family crest. You really need to get out more, Ash. How do you not know this?"

"Dr. Whale says I shouldn't be on my feet all day."

"Did he say you should plug your ears too because I have good stuff."

"Hey." Tina slid onto the stool beside Ashley and nodded at Ruby in greeting.

"Did you hear about the May-" Ashley began, her eyes lighting up at the chance to share her recently acquired news before she was interrupted with a nod.

"I watch her boy for a living."

Ruby laughed and patted Ashley's arm. "I'll fill you in." She turned to Tina and held up a finger. "And I've got your order."

"So you know about the birthday?" Ashley asked.

"That's old news now," Tina said apologetically as Ruby laughed, walking toward the kitchen.

"I saw them at the toy store," Ashley said casually, taking the moment to finish off her water. "I think Emma bought Henry a bike."

"What?" Ruby backpedaled and leaned her forearms on the counter in front of both blondes.

Tina slammed the counter in excitement. "Oh! They were at the park together and there was a bike there. It was a quaint little family outing."

"Awww." Ashley pressed a hand to her chest. "With Sean working so much we don't get to have many family outings."

"And," Tina continued, leaning her head in conspiratorially, "they were holding hands."

"Shut up!" Ruby gasped.

Granny appeared from the kitchen, a spatula in her hand and a glare on her face. Ruby winced and apologized hastily but pressed for more information. "What do you mean they were holding hands?"

"Henry was spinning on the swings, and Regina was about to go into bitchy mode, but Emma took her hand and calmed her down," Tina provided with a proud grin. "I wouldn't be surprised if something was happening between them."

"Is that why Emma asked me where a nice place to eat is?" Ruby asked scandalized.

"She did?" Ashley looked to the brunette wide-eyed.

Tina pounded on the counter top in excitement again, unable to get the words she so desperately wanted to get out. It was why she had run here, after all, but this news just made everything better.

"What?" Ashley pressed, turning to face the older woman curiously.

"She asked me to babysit!" Tina finally released in a strangled breath. "This morning when they dropped off Henry, Regina asked if I would be available to watch him tomorrow night. She said it may be overnight."

"Overnight?!" Ruby squealed.

"Ruby," Granny scolded from the back. "If you don't get back to work, so help me."

"Hold on, this is important," Ruby pleaded and grabbed Tina's arm. "She said overnight?"

"Well, late," she amended.

"Oh my god," the waitress straightened, and nodded her head with finality. "The Mayor is going on a date."

"Is this a date?" Regina asked from her spot in the passenger seat as she and Emma drove along Main the following night.

It was a little past seven by the time they had finally left the mansion. Regina had given Tina a forty-five minute lecture on Henry's bedtime, his bath instructions, what snacks he could and could not eat should he wake up, where the first aid kit was and the proper way to perform the Heimlich maneuver on a child. Tina had tried interrupting, saying she was well aware of the safety protocols, reminding Regina of her occupation, but the Mayor glared and continued to show Tina the proper steps using Emma as her dummy. The daycare teacher turned babysitter shut up immediately for that demonstration.

By the time Regina had listed off the list of emergency contact numbers, Emma had stepped in and provided her own, taking Regina's waist and ushering her aside, saying to call them if she needed anything. Henry had been all too excited to spend some extra time with Ms. Tina, which made Regina even more reluctant to leave, but with a pointed expression from Emma, Regina had successfully made her way to the Volkswagen.

"A date?" Emma repeated her question, her voice rising an octave. "Why would you say that?"

"Dinner. Movie. Friday night."

Emma swallowed hard and focused on driving. August had asked that too when she had called him earlier that day, and now that Regina had mentioned it, she had no idea what to say. Friends went out to the movies, right? Emma used to do that all the time. Except usually she went by herself. Sneaking in. But this wasn't a date. It was just two friends, hanging out.

"The rumour mill has unofficially speculated this as a date," Regina continued, casting a side glance at Emma. "My colleagues believe I can't hear what they're saying when they take their breaks by the water cooler."

Emma let out a chuckle and relaxed her grip on the wheel. Her lips twitched and she winked coyly. "Maybe we should give them something to talk about."

Regina laughed, shaking her head but continued to grin. "So where is this 'date'? The theatre is on Elm, you know?"

Emma shook her head and continued down Main until she reached the road that led out of town. "I was thinking of something else. Get away from the prying eyes of Storybrooke. Plus, can you imagine the rumour mill tomorrow?"

"Oh?" Regina asked intrigued. "What did you have in mind?"

Emma simply grinned and pressed a little harder on the gas as they passed the "Leaving Storybrooke" sign.

They drove for over twenty minutes, fighting over the radio station. Emma had it tuned into the Top 40s, but Regina groaned and haphazardly pushed buttons on the dashboard to escape from the repetitive bass and meaningless drivel. The sounds of an acoustic voice harmonizing soulfully with the music appeared to be more her taste, but Emma couldn't stand it and pressed for a different station. After Emma had given Regina a musification, preaching how Guns N Roses were the greatest band ever, they had settled on a station that was currently on its rotation of Aerosmith's I Don't Want to Miss a Thing.

"This reminds me of you," Regina commented casually as the chorus played softly in the background.

"Missing me already?" Emma teased.

Regina rolled her eyes and shook her head. "It was featured in a movie I once saw, well before I had Henry."

Emma turned to look at the Mayor and grinned. "You've seen Armageddon?"

"Everyone has seen Armageddon, dear. I admit, it's well done."

"And it reminds you of me?" Emma raised an eyebrow holding back a chuckle.

"Bruce Willis risks his life for his daughter and the entire world," Regina argued with a huff. "Take it as a compliment."

Emma laughed and turned back to the road, allowing the song on the radio to play out. When the commercial started and an ad for a downtown event sprung up, Emma smirked to herself and began humming.

It took Regina a moment to realize it was coming from Emma, but when she removed her gaze from the window and turned toward the blonde, she was met with a side smirk as Emma continued to hum. Regina's lips parted as the tune formed into her memory, rolling her eyes. "Are you -"

"So kiss me and smile for me. Tell me that you'll wait for me. Hold me like you'll never let me go," Emma sang exaggeratedly at the top of her voice, barely containing the underlying chuckle beneath the notes.

"You're impossible," Regina scorned with a twinkle in her eye.

"You like it."

Regina kept her lips pursed and stared straight ahead, not allowing a confirmation to inflate Emma's already large ego.

"Hey," the blonde said solemnly and pointed out Regina's window. "See that diner there?"

"We're going here?" Regina examined the roadside diner up ahead. She could see the motorcycles and pick up trucks parked outside it, and as much as she tried to keep the disdain out of her face, she really couldn't help it. If the tacky decor was warning enough, she would bet the food and company there would follow suit.

Emma shook her head. "When I was found as a baby, they took me there."

Regina whipped her head at Emma as they drove past the diner, complete with all the transients Regina had imagined being there. "What?"

"I was found off a highway, not too far from here actually. The people who found me dropped me off here to call the cops or whoever," she chuckled in thought. "We were almost neighbours."

"I thought you were in an orphanage."

"Eventually."

Red lips parted in surprise. Regina knew Emma had been a fighter. She knew some of the ill stories the blonde had shared with her about her time in foster care, but she had no idea that Emma's beginning had immediately started off worse for wear. Calling her a fighter would be an understatement.

Regina placed her hand on Emma's thigh and squeezed sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

Emma chuckled and patted Regina's hand. "It's fine. Wasn't really the worst thing that's happened to me, you know?"

"Oh." That was all Regina could say because though she had a hard life dealing with a mother like Cora and a passive father, at least they had been in her life, claiming their actions as love and affection.

"Sorry," Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I didn't mean to put a damper on our hang out time."

Regina shook her head and let out a breathy sigh. "No, I understand hard childhoods. My mother was strict," she shared quietly.

"You've mentioned."

"Yes."

"Was she..." Emma chanced a glance at Regina who focused her gaze on her fidgeting hands. "Really strict?"

There was no movement from Regina for at least a full silent minute before she nodded her head imperceptibly so. "Yes," she whispered. "My mother aimed for perfection, and when it wasn't met..."

Regina bit her tongue before putting on a smile. "Let's just say I managed to meet her expectations eventually."

Suddenly Emma's fingers were entwined with her own, and Regina looked up and was met with a sympathetic smile. "We got out."

"We did," the brunette agreed with a smile of her own.

They pulled into an old drive-in twenty minutes later just as the sun was finishing its descent below the horizon. Their fingers were still tangled around one another though they had moved their conversation to less serious topics. Neither made any motion to pull away even as Emma pulled into the large field. Truthfully, she had discovered the relatively nearby drive-in only that morning when she opted on staying in the mansion and used Regina's desktop for a little research. It was an old drive-in, one of the few still up and running in Maine, and they were playing Hitchcock's Vertigo. She had seen it before when she was eleven after she had snuck into an old revival theatre. She hadn't payed much attention to the movie then, instead using the time there to escape a foster father with a drinking problem and a foster mother with a nasty right hook.

"I've never been to one of these," Regina admitted as Emma pulled up to a vendor, finally weaving their fingers apart and paying for their entrance.

"Me neither," Emma said, driving slowly through the large field to pull up to a good spot halfway through the field and just to the right of center. "Though I'm sure those teens over there are using this place for a better use."

Regina looked to see the couple in the front seat, their silhouettes joined at the lips as their bodies meshed into one shadow. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks but scoffed at the display. "How typical."

"What?" Emma grinned, cutting off the engine and unbuckling her seat belt, turning fully to face the brunette. "Not the wild child in your teenage days?"

"I can assure you I didn't do that."

"Well it's never too late."

Regina raised an eyebrow and grinned as Emma looked flushed and floundered for a response.

"I mean, like, nevermind," Emma dismissed hastily. "Popcorn?"

Regina was surprised by the amount of variety the snack shop had. She never had much of a sweet tooth, a result of living with her mother who claimed her smile and beauty were her best features, but the different types of sweets and chocolates available had Regina slightly curious. She picked up a box of Junior Mints, a bag of sour skittles, and two bags of milk chocolate M&M's. A box of Milk Duds was the last thing that made it into her arms as she handed them over to the cashier. It was more sugar she had ever willingly bought, and there was a tiny part of her buried behind years of order and discipline that was excited to have a taste and indulge in the sweeter side of life. God, when did that happen? Regina wondered as she paid for her purchases and found Emma by the popcorn kiosk where she was sprinkling a healthy amount of white cheddar seasoning over the popcorn.

"Woah, should I call your dentist and book an appointment for tomorrow?" Emma teased when she saw the treats in Regina's hand.

"Should I call your commander and tell them you're spending your leave drowning yourself in butter and powdered cheese?" Regina retorted as Emma gave the bag a tap to even out the seasoning before placing the drinks she bought into her jacket pocket and the crook of her elbow.

"Now that's just mean." She popped a few kernels in her mouth before sidling beside Regina and making their way back to the bug.

Commercials played on the screen, promoting new releases and the candies at the concession. The field was beginning to crowd with people chatting with their friends, waiting in line for food, or sitting in or on their cars. All the cars parked had their radios tuned into the drive-in frequency, and from what Emma could tell, it was an unspoken agreement to blast the volume of their radios and roll down their windows. Emma had put their own volume to a reasonable level, loud enough to hear the movie but low enough to talk.

By the time they were settled back into the Volkswagen, their popcorn and candy littering the dashboard in front of them, the sun had gone down completely, and Emma was passing the popcorn to Regina.

"Indulge me?"

"You think I wouldn't after the purchase I made?" Regina took the bag haughtily and elegantly ate a popcorn, making the infamous movie-going snack seem like a five-star restaurant meal.

Emma smirked and held up the drinks, water, juice, and a bottle of pop, before leaning over to the dashboard and fluttered her fingers in contemplation of her selection. She finally settled on the Junior Mints, popping open the box and tearing into the bag. Tossing the chocolate covered mint ball in her mouth, Emma shut her eyes and moaned. "It's like those girl guide mints but even better."

"I bought those specifically for me," Regina said, stealing the box from Emma's grasp. She placed a chocolate delicately in her mouth and sighed, revelling at the melting chocolate and mint pooling in her mouth. A pair of eyes were steady on her, and it took her a moment to realize Emma had been watching her every move. Suddenly self-conscious, Regina cleared her throat and swallowed, handing the Junior Mints back to the blonde. "What?"

Emma shook her head suppressing a smile. "You just looked really nice just then."

"Eating chocolate?"

"Just being happy," Emma grinned. "It's a good look on you."

Regina rolled her eyes, but the blush appeared on her face nonetheless. "I'm finding more reasons to be so."

They sat in the bug, munching on popcorn, candy, and chocolate, much to Regina's surprise. She had never done this before, and without the prying eyes of the town or having to be the model mother for Henry, Regina felt as if she could relax and let her guard down. Her stomach may not thank her in the morning, but for now, she was content with watching Scottie trail Madeleine to the bouquet shop. She and Emma exchanged commentary every now and then, Emma scoffing at Scottie for stringing Midge along while Regina appreciated the cinematography of the piece. Despite the gear shift separating them, they leaned toward the middle, their shoulders pressed against one another as the popcorn bag was positioned precisely on top of the cup holder.

Rowdy laughter filtered in through Emma's half opened window, and they turned to see a group of teenagers sitting in the bed of their own pick up truck simply talking to one another. Loudly. They made no motion to watch the movie, and from their obnoxious behaviour it looked as if they didn't care.

Emma rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I really wish I wasn't like that when I was a kid."

Regina laughed lightly. "Emma," she said softly and nudged the blonde's shoulder. "You are so young."

"I'm not that young."

She laughed again. "You're probably only a few years older than those kids you so desperately loathe."

Emma scrunched up her face and glared at the teens again, realizing that she probably would have done the exact same thing at their age. Only five years ago. She shuddered at the thought.

"You don't feel that way." It was an observation rather than a question on Regina's part.

The blonde shook her head and let out a chuckle of her own. "Sometimes I forget until you withhold alcohol from me."

"I can't imagine going through the things that you've gone through already," Regina admitted before turning a shy eye to the blonde. "You're very strong."

Emma snorted. "It's not even really about strength. It's just me getting by."

"Surviving."

"Exactly."

Regina stared forward for a moment, watching the black and white film pass as Scottie saved Madeleine from drowning. She rolled a shoulder casually. "I used to do that. Living day after day in the same routine. But then I got Henry, and everything changed after him."

"What made you want to adopt?"

It took Regina a few moments to contemplate her answer. Her mind had been filled of memories of Henry since the first day she had travelled to Boston to pick him up, and her life had been better ever since. There were moments where she doubted her abilities at being a mother, but every time he looked at her, and every time he said "Mommy", her heart fluttered with absolute joy.

"Have you ever felt like you were missing something?" Regina whispered. "Like there was a void in your heart?"

Emma's breath caught in her throat. She knew all too well what that void Regina spoke of felt like. In her earlier years, she had dreamed of her parents coming to take her away, but as she grew older and less naive, she sought for a place to call her own, for people who worried for her. "Yeah," Emma nodded. "I do."

"I always wanted a child, but I wasn't lucky enough to be able to have one of my own. When I went to Boston to interview for a chance to adopt, I saw them catering Henry around the office since he had just arrived, and I fell in love instantly." Regina looked to Emma then, her eyes shining and a small smile on her face. "I was lucky to be able to get him."

"You've given him a great life, Regina." Emma took the older woman's palm and squeezed. "Not a lot of kids are as lucky as he is."

Regina hesitated a second before asking, "Do you mind if I asked what your experiences in foster care were like?"

Emma blanched which made Regina squeeze the blonde's hand in earnest. "You don't have to."

Emma chuckled and shook her head. "No, it's just, not a lot of people seemed to care. My social workers would only get me out of there if it was absolutely dire, and a lot of times, they looked at my behaviour and attitude and figured I was putting it on myself.

"There was one house," Emma continued, "the Johnson's. It's where I met August. They scooped me up after I got taken from my other placement because that family didn't buy groceries for a month so me and the older kids would take turns using our five finger discount."

Regina raised her eyebrows at that, but Emma just shrugged.

"Anyway, the Johnson's were pretty religious. They believed in faith healing, very conservative, and really strict. One time I had a really bad flu or something and was throwing up everywhere, so they got a priest to look at me, and he said to keep praying and if it gets any worse it was God's will. August snuck me some medicine before I got any worse, but after that I managed to fly under the radar with them, made friends with this girl at school who they seemed to approve of, and me and August spent about two years living there. When I was fifteen, August had already aged out of the system and was enlisted. I ran away after that."

"How come?"

Emma's face heated up, and she glanced at Regina under her lashes. "Like I said, they were really religious. That girl I made friends with? She was kind of more than that. She came over a couple times, and one day Mr. Johnson came into my room, and he saw us spring apart. I got well-acquainted with the sting of a belt that night."

Regina furrowed her brow momentarily confused before clarification dawned on her. "Oh."

"Yeah," Emma chuckled nervously, glancing cautiously up at Regina. "Does that bother you?"

"Yes."

Emma deflated and bit her lip. Tension wracked her body and she held her breath. She should have kept her mouth shut about her experiences.

"How can they lay a hand on a child for who they love?" Regina continued, making Emma snap her head up.

Relieved, Emma let out a breathy sigh and shrugged. "I wouldn't call it love, but some people have issues."

"Some people are idiots."

Emma laughed at loud and patted Regina's hand. "I hear you on that."

They continued to talk throughout the movie, drowning out the rowdy teenagers and the couples snuggling on the hoods of their cars. Halfway through, Emma had asked Regina about her teenage years if the brunette hadn't spent it gallivanting which moved them into a game of Twenty Questions, a game Regina had unsurprisingly never played. So far, she had found out about a secret boyfriend turned brief fiance Regina had in her youth, discovered the brunette had aspired to be in the Olympics for equestrian events, and that the superpower she wanted most was teleportation. Emma had divulged that she was an amateur guitar player, would spend her life eating potatoes if she had to, and had been suspended from four schools. By the time she was thinking of her next question, the credits were rolling and people began filtering out.

"I don't think we really paid attention to the movie," Regina commented.

"Scottie goes crazy, and Madeleine is objectified."

"That's Hitchcock for you," Regina said dryly, causing a snort from Emma.

"I'm gonna wait till it clears out a bit, okay?" Emma asked as she reached for the empty Skittles and Junior Mints bag, stuffing them into the empty popcorn bag.

"It's still your turn."

"I have a good one," Emma said excitedly. "Any piercings or tattoos other than your earrings?"

Regina bit her lip in contemplation.

"No way," Emma grinned knowingly. "Where is it?"

With deft fingers, Regina silently unbuttoned the last few buttons of her silk blouse and pulled apart the cloth to reveal her stomach and a small lavender piercing just above her navel.

"No fucking way," Emma laughed excitedly and turned on her car light, ducking her head to Regina's stomach to get a closer look.

Regina blushed as passing cars peered into the bug, clearly seeing Emma duck down behind the dashboard. She tapped the blonde's shoulder, prompting her back up.

"When did you get that?" Emma asked amazed as Regina hastily buttoned her shirt back up.

"I believe that's a question, and if I'm not mistaken it's my turn," Regina said shortly. "Do you have any body modifications?"

Emma snorted and lifted her fingers to show air quotes. "'Body modifications.' That sounds morbid. But yeah, I've got a tattoo."

Pulling back her sleeve, Emma revealed a tattoo on her left wrist of a simple flower with six petals.

"Oh," Regina said as she leaned closer, taking Emma's arm in her grasp for closer inspection. "I never noticed before. What does it mean?"

"Ah," the blonde smirked. "My turn."

Regina rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. "When I got my piercing, yes?" At Emma's nod, Regina continued. "I was seventeen, and it was shortly after my father had passed away quite suddenly from an aneurysm. I took it very hard since he and I were close, and there was just a moment there where I went on a downward spiral. It was that time where I hid a boyfriend from my mother, but it was then on a whim I passed by a shop and got it done."

"Your mother must have had a field day when she saw that."

Regina shook her head solemnly. "Her heart gave out just before my eighteenth. I swore she knew what I was up to, so I ended the engagement and tried to do my best by her."

Emma frowned and wrapped an arm around the brunette, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. "I'm sorry."

Regina breathed out a chuckle, shaking her head again. "It's fine. But you, what's your story behind your tattoo?"

"It was at the house before the Johnson's, actually. I was thirteen or so, and I promised myself that I wouldn't be passed to more than six group homes," she explained fingering each petal. "The Johnson's was the sixth, and then I went to boot camp."

A thick silence came over them before Regina let out a breath. "I think we've sufficiently fulfilled tonight's quota of tragic back stories."

Emma laughed, but her smile was cut short when the sound of a gun went off, and Emma's eyes widened. She grabbed Regina and tugged her down onto her lap, splaying her torso over the brunette's head, cradling it protectively.

It sounded again, closer this time, and it took Emma peeking over the windshield to see that it was just the engine backfiring of an old car. She winced and slowly got up, blushing at Regina's now-mussed hair. "I, uh, I'm sorry," Emma stammered, avoiding eye contact. "I thought it was...something else."

Regina edged closer in her seat and used her thumb and forefinger to tug Emma's chin back to her. Despite the momentary shock of being pulled down, she smiled softly, letting her thumb stroke a path along Emma's jaw to soothe away the tension there. "Don't be. You're safe here," she whispered reassuringly. Waiting patiently for Emma to realize that Regina understood her reaction, the blonde nodded, leaning into Regina's hand for comfort. Quietly, the brunette asked, "do you need to talk?"

Emma shook her head hastily. "Not tonight. I promise."

Regina nodded knowingly and removed her fingers. "One more and we'll go."

"Hmm," Emma tapped her chin in thought, the last of her nerves leaving her as she scoured in her brain for a good question. "Would you have still written to me if that reporter guy didn't ask you to?"

Regina bit her lip and shook her head. "No," Regina admitted, watching Emma deflate. She added earnestly, "but I'm so glad I did."

Her clarification made Emma feel better, and Emma found herself taking the brunette's hand again. She was never a touchy feely sort of person, and she was banking that Regina wasn't either, but there was something drawing Emma to her that made it so easy to be this comfortable. "I'm glad you did too."

Their eyes locked for a moment as they continued to smile shyly at one another, palms pressing hotly in their own familiar embrace, and Emma swore, Regina's eyes were like the deepest pools of chocolate she could drown in. A nervous tug fluttered in the pit of her stomach as she forced herself to turn away and gauge at the field, now scarce with vehicles.

Without another word, Emma started her bug and pulled onto the gravel road, exiting the drive-in and turning onto the old road back to the interstate.

It was nearly eleven by the time the beetle entered Storybrooke again. The moment they had shared in the car was put behind them as they easily slipped back into casual conversation, though Emma was slightly unnerved by the fact that Regina had somehow successfully commandeered the radio. She pulled up into the mansion's driveway and took a moment to allow the final minutes of their alone time to settle in. They would have to do this again sometime, and hopefully soon. Maybe when Emma came back they could make some sort of tradition out of this.

"So," Emma grinned, waggling her eyebrows, "was this 'date' satisfactory?"

"I believe you're forgetting something," Regina retorted, rolling a shoulder coyly as Emma's eyes widened at the insinuation.

Clearing her throat, Emma licked her lips slowly and lowered her voice. "Something to give this town gossip to talk about."

"Perhaps," Regina whispered, her eyes darting to Emma's newly glistened lips.

They held each other's gaze, and Regina swore her heart beat loud enough for Emma to hear. The air inside the Volkswagen was thick and hot, though it had nothing to do with heater since Emma had regretfully informed her earlier it was broken. No, this heat was coming off both of them, and Regina couldn't find it in her to tear herself away. Her eyes darted from the green of Emma's eyes to her pink lips. God, why was she so focused on her lips? They were just friends, that was all. Their jokes were simply playful after all. But Regina wet her own lips and swallowed sharply, unconsciously closing the space between them.

Her heart thumped in her ears as Emma moved closer and closer, and Regina was vaguely aware that a few of Emma's fingers were dancing on her knee.

Regina gasped suddenly pulling back and scowled, immediately releasing herself from the seat belt and storming out of the bug with a purpose.

"Regina?" Emma called, slipping out and slamming her own door shut, jogging to catch up with the suddenly fired up Mayor. "I'm sor-"

Regina let herself into the mansion, Tina's name on her lips, and it was then Emma realized that despite the late hour, a majority of the lights were still on in the house.

"Mommy!" Henry's quick pitter-patter sounded from the play room as he slid along the hardwood in his footie pyjamas and launched himself into Regina's legs. "I stayed up!"

"I can see that," she said disapprovingly, glaring at the haggard looking Tina who exited the play room with her hair up in a haphazard bun. At least she had the decency to look a little frightened.

Emma took a knee beside Henry, and the boy immediately began climbing into Emma's lap and weaving his way onto her back. "It's way past your bedtime, kid."

"I know, I know." Tina already had her hands up. "He's a lot more receptive to nap time during the day, I swear."

"Why is he awake, Ms. Bell?" Regina asked briskly.

"He was very excited to have a babysitter in the evening, and after his bath, I read all his stories, but he still had quite a bit of energy, so I let him play it off." They both turned to the clearly overactive child using Emma like a jungle gym. "It didn't work though."

"I can see that." Regina replied curtly, burning holes into Tina's gaze before the petite blonde looked away abashedly. Satisfied with her display of power, Regina fished into her purse for a few bills and handed them to Tina curtly. "Good night, Ms. Bell."

Tina donned her coat and gave Henry a hug before glancing shyly at the newly arrived adults. "So you had a nice night then?" It was Regina's glare and Emma's incredulous look that had her raising her hands again and nodding. "Right. I'll just be off then." She paused with the door open and added as an afterthought, "if you ever need another night out alone-"

Regina tilted her head and crossed her arms, and that was all the sign Tina needed to nod and shut the door behind her.

"Nope." Henry kept jumping up and down on his bed as Regina attempted to coax him down with his favourite stuffed dinosaur.

"Sweetheart, it is nearly midnight," Regina said exasperated.

"Not sleepy," he insisted, falling on his bottom only to spring up to his feet again.

Emma's chuckling as the blonde waited by the doorway of his room made Regina direct her glare to the younger woman. Emma had already dressed for bed donning an oversized shirt with 'US ARMY' printed on it and running shorts just barely peeking out from under the hem. Both women had hoped that Henry would have settled down in that time, but clearly the three-year old had better intentions.

Henry's mattress squeaked as he jumped to and fro on the bed, and Regina brought her gaze back to the double bed as if it were the sole reason why her son was not asleep. But Henry grinned and started to sing a little song as he jumped. "Hop and hop and hop and hop and hop and hop and stop." He landed on his bottom again at the 'stop' only to continue his song and his jumping.

"Henry Christopher Mills," Regina enunciated slowly, her patience wearing thin. "If you are not in that bed in five minutes, there will be no bedtime story."

"I'm in it," he reasoned before continuing his song.

Emma laughed stepping fully into the bed. "He has a point."

"Sleeping," Regina clarified with a huff. "If you are not sleeping in your bed soon, no bedtime tonight."

"'kay, no story."

"Henry," Regina seethed.

"Okay, kid," Emma said stepping up to the bed and catching Henry's arm and looping it across her shoulder into a fireman's carry. She spun him around once, his high pitched laugh lighting up the room, before dropping him into the middle of his bed. "Listen to your mother before the vein in her forehead pops, okay?"

Henry giggled as both Emma and Henry pressed their cheeks together to inspect the very vein that was throbbing angrily on Regina's forehead, fueled by the brunette's stance as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Hugs?" Henry asked innocently, opening his free arm up for his mother.

Regina tried to the best of her ability to resist his wide and innocent gaze, but with an aggravated sigh to herself, and cursing her weakness when it came to her son, she sat on the edge of the bed and engulfed him in a hug. Her arms inadvertently wrapped around Emma since the blonde hadn't moved from her spot, and before Regina could realize and pull away, another arm, longer and definitely not Henry's wrapped around her shoulder as they gave the boy his hugs.

When she pulled back, she shared a small smile with Emma before pulling the blankets back and allowing Henry to crawl under the sheets, tucking his dragon firmly beside him.

"Story time?" He asked hopefully. At Regina's no-nonsense look stating she had not forgotten the antic he had pulled that evening, the boy pouted petulantly. "Fi-ine."

"Good night, sweetie," Regina said giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Night, little man," Emma said ruffling Henry's hair as the women stood.

Regina waited by the door's entrance for Emma to turn on the nightlight by his bed before turning off the room light and shutting the door behind them.

"You'd think that kid was hopped up on nothing but sugar and energy drinks," Emma commented as they lingered in the hallway by the railing.

"Yes, I'll be having a word with Ms. Bell about her babysitting tactics. Apparently she knows how to care for children only during daytime hours," Regina muttered.

"Don't take it too hard on her. Henry was probably just excited. It's like having the house to yourself for the first time, you know?"

"I suppose." They continued to linger by the railing, a comfortable silence overtaking them. Slowly, Regina moved her fingers across the banister to press her palm over Emma's. "Thank you for tonight."

The heat that had surrounded them in the bug less than an hour earlier had come back, and this time, Regina knew for sure it wasn't due to a faulty car heater. There was hope and fear and something else swirling in deep green eyes, but Regina had no idea what to make of it. Friends feel this way, no?

"I'm glad you had fun," Emma said with a shy grin.

Regina, in a fashion unlike herself, closed the distance between herself and Emma and wrapped her arms around the blonde in a hug. Neither women had expected it, including Regina, and for a moment, they stood at the top of the stairs in an awkward embrace. Squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment, Regina made to release Emma, but the younger woman was having none of that and immediately got over her trepidation and stepped into the brunette's warmth. Both their cheeks were pressed against soft hair, and the awkward rigidity they had just possessed was gone as they hugged at the top of the stairs.

It felt like long moments before they pulled away, blonde and brunette strands tangled together.

Regina bit her lip and chuckled at the display. "Good night, soldier."

"Night, Regina," Emma grinned before they separated, each going to their respective rooms. They stood outside their doors for a moment longer, catching the other's eye before Emma turned the knob first, disappearing behind the door with a coy wink.

Emma couldn't sleep. She was accustomed to days with little to no sleep yet still able to fully function, but this type of temporary insomnia had nothing to do with being on constant vigilance. It had to do with the brunette sleeping two doors down from her in her own bedroom. What the hell were they doing tonight? Sure, they had joked about it being a date, but it wasn't really a date. Was it? No, it wasn't a date. It sure as hell felt like one though. And Emma wasn't oblivious to the fact that Tina was basically over the moon to push them out the door that evening Yeah, Regina was smart, and beautiful, and generous when she wanted to be, but they were just friends. That's all. Emma wasn't about to ruin a perfectly good friendship just because Regina kept looking at her lips. And god, why the hell was she looking at her lips?

Emma groaned and threw her arm down onto the pillow beside her. This couldn't be happening. This was just a bit of teasing going too far. First August, then the town rumours, and of course, leave it to Emma to joke about it even being a date. But Regina had joined in, stoking the flames. And damn were they hot. Not Regina - but she was hot - but crap Emma couldn't spin that thought into something less suggestive.

She rolled her eyes at herself and flipped over onto her stomach, her face just about buried into the pillow and only tilted up enough to breathe. The clock on the nightstand read 12:12, and Emma was cursing herself for her inability to fall asleep. Stupid brain, she thought. But man, did she have a good time tonight. She liked spending time with Regina. The usually cold and calculating Mayor was able to be herself around Emma, and Emma couldn't help but feel more than a little smug that she was able to bring that out of her. But it wasn't attraction. It was just gratitude. Very intimate and personal gratitude. She was sure of it. Maybe.

She pushed herself up quickly when her bedroom door creaked open. For a second, she wondered if it was the woman plaguing her thoughts and more than one interesting scenarios crossed her mind, but when no one had appeared at the door, her eyes wandered down to see Henry peaking his head into her room.

"Henry?" She whispered quietly.

"I sleep here?" He whispered in a voice that was not remotely close to being quiet.

She turned and slid out of her bed, kneeling in front of the boy and taking his hands in hers. "Did you have a nightmare?"

He shook his head. "I sleep with Emma."

She smirked. He didn't look shaken or scared. He didn't even look tired. If the kid needed some cuddles, who was she to turn him down? Before he could turn on his puppy dog eyes, she nodded. "Only if you promise to go to sleep."

"Yeah!" He cheered but quickly covered his mouth realizing his volume. "Yeah," he repeated in a whisper.

He bounded for her bed, scurrying to get over the edge before plopping himself right in the middle.

Emma shook her head, hardly believing a single kid could be that adorable. But then again so was his mother. She winced to herself and tried pushing that thought away but only managed to think of it to a lesser degree before she scooted in bed next to him, opening her arms for him to curl up into her side.

Regina was having a fitful night. No, her dreams weren't plagued with terror. On the contrary, a certain blonde soldier was starring in it, and soon they were back in Emma's beetle, parked outside the mayoral mansion. The heat and tension surrounded them as they inched closer and closer together, their destination set. Regina's heart beat wildly, and she couldn't help but feel thrilled that she would finally get to feel the pressure of Emma's lips on her own. She was so close to them, plump and pink and within a hair's breadth from her own lips. Regina's tongue came out to wet her lips, and she swore she felt the tiniest bit of flesh from Emma's before the loud knocking jarred her awake.

Her eyes snapped open, her forehead was slick with sweat, and her heart was beating just as quickly as it was in her dream. It took her a moment to truly process what she had been dreaming about, and it took her less than a nanosecond to scold herself. Emma was her friend. She couldn't be having these feelings for her. Leave it to Regina to develop some unknown feelings for the one person who could stand to be in her vicinity.

The knocking sounded again, and Regina sat up, catching the time on her clock to see it was just half past one. Henry didn't knock, a trait she had yet to instill in her son, so it only left one other option. Emma.

"Yes?" She called out, her voice hoarse and cautious. What if Emma wanted to continue what they had almost started in the car? What if Regina let her?

The door opened and Regina saw Emma's head pop into the room with an apologetic smile on her face. "Hey, sorry to wake you."

"It's fine. Are you okay?" She moved to slip out of bed when she noticed Emma had Henry by the hand. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"I'm fine, dear," Emma joked, using Regina's default term of endearment. Regina's heart skipped a beat. Her focus had been on Henry so she didn't see the embarrassed wince Emma had done.

"I sleep with Mommy now," Henry announced and released Emma's hand to climb into Regina's bed.

"Now?" She looked to Emma for clarification.

"Yeah, he came into my room a little after we put him to bed. He slept for less than an hour before he wanted to see you," the blonde explained.

Regina turned to Henry who had made himself comfortable in his mother's queen-sized bed. "Dear, you have to go to sleep."

"'Kay." With a playful smirk on his face, he dropped onto his back and shut his eyes tight.

"I'm serious, young man," Regina said sternly, poking his side before turning to Emma. "Thank you for bringing him."

Emma chuckled. "Good luck. He seems to be pulling all his tricks tonight."

"I'm well-equipped to deal with him."

"Night, Regina. Good night, Henry."

The boy's response had been an exaggerated snore, which both women shook their head at before attempting to go back to sleep.

"Mommy," Henry whispered nearly two hours later. "Mommy."

"Mmm," Regina rolled over to him in her sleep-state and wrapped an arm around his middle.

"Mommy," he tried again, pulling at her eyelids.

She scrunched up her face, burying it in his chest. "Henry," she responded groggily, though she remained more asleep than awake.

Henry wiggled out of his mother's grasp and straddled her side, leaning over to press his lips right to her ear. "Mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy."

Regina jerked awake, grabbing him at his hips as she sat up, stretching her back and forcing her eyelids open. "Henry, Mommy is very sleepy, and you should be sleeping too."

"Not tired," he insisted.

"Do you have to go to the potty?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want Mommy to get you some warm milk?"

He shook his head again.

"You have to sleep, Henry. It's either here or in your room."

He put a finger to his chin in thought. "Emma?"

She groaned and fell back against the pillows. That was not one of the options she had given him, but right now, Regina was too tired to care. Her dreams hadn't let up one bit, and she needed all the rest she could get if she was prepared to battle her thoughts tomorrow. "Okay, okay, fine. You can sleep with Emma if she allows you."

He grinned and scooted off his mother, using her blanket to lower himself to the ground. Regina followed after him, too tired to put on her robe, and sauntered into the hallway in nothing but a silk nightgown. Henry beat her to Emma's door first, and before she could tell him to knock, Henry opened it and ran into the darkened room.

"Henry," she hissed, jogging the last few steps to Emma's room to see that she was too late in detaining her son for he had already climbed into Emma's bed, crawling from the foot to the headboard and snuggled under the sheets with the blonde.

"Huh?" Emma sat up abruptly, taking less than a second to get her bearings.

"Sleep time, Emma," Henry said as he tugged the blonde back down.

"Is this okay?" Regina asked, leaning into the doorway to keep herself upright.

"I thought you said you were well-equipped," Emma muttered through her sleep-ridden voice.

"You have military training," Regina dismissed waving her hand haphazardly, as if that were answer enough. "Can he stay?"

"Yeah," Emma mumbled tiredly and plopped back down into bed, asleep in seconds.

Someone was awake. Regina felt it. She shut her eyes tightly, cursing that she had only truly fallen asleep half an hour prior. Henry's room arrangement shenanigans were keeping her restless, and now she was awake at - she opened her eyes to see that it was 4:38 - god, Emma better keep him in that bed if she wanted to live.

"Regina," she heard her name muttered on the other side of the door. She debated feigning sleep, but her motherly worries always seemed to wrack inside her brain. "Regina."

"What?" Regina groaned, stuffing a pillow over her face.

"Open the door."

Regina growled and whipped the covers off. Within two steps she had the door open seeing Emma on the other side, dark circles under own eyes and a very awake Henry on her arms.

"Hi," she whispered, nudging the boy to go to his mother.

Regina took him in her arms and pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder. "Hi."

"Is he done playing musical beds yet?" Emma asked with a slight whine in her voice.

"Henry?" Regina asked directing the question back to him.

"Come." He held his hand out to Emma and opened and closed his fist to motion her into the room.

That simple gesture seemed to wake up both women instantaneously. Regina's eyes widened while Emma's lips parted in a preempted stammer. A yawn tore through Regina, large enough to make her eyes water and reminding her that it was quite late. She barely had time to cover her mouth before cocking her head back to Emma and motioning toward the bed. "Come on, soldier."

Getting over her temporary shock, Emma trudged through the door and shut it behind her. She moved to the other side of the bed and fell onto it face first, nuzzling her face into Regina's goose down pillows.

"Mmm," she moaned into the pillow as Regina set Henry down into the middle. "I'm gonna steal one of these for my room."

"I'd rather you just sleep in my bed than steal my pillow," Regina said, pausing her tucking in of Henry when she realized what she said. She glanced up at Emma who cocked a curious brow. "I'm very tired," she reasoned.

The blonde smirked and continued to nuzzle into the pillow. Regina finally slid into bed and looked intently at her son. "That's the last time tonight, young man."

He nodded, yawning this time and snuggled into Emma who instinctively wrapped an arm around him.

"Does falling into bed together constitute as something to give the town to talk about?" Regina slid under the blankets, barely processing her off-handed comment.

Emma chuckled into her pillow. "You are so tired, Madam Mayor. I think the town would expect something a little less innocent."

Regina complied when Henry grabbed her arm to wrap around himself too as both women sandwiched the boy into a warm snuggle.

Regina yawned again, her eyelids falling closed as she muttered, "maybe another night" and within moments, the trio had finally all fallen asleep for the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: I told people this wouldn't be up until next week, but here it is. I hope you don't mind. Also, guess who never has to take another university exam ever?

Regina slowly regained consciousness as the early morning sun flooded in through her bedroom window not two hours after falling asleep. She kept her eyes closed but allowed her brain to send signals to the rest of her body, getting it ready for another day. Normally she would make haste with waking up, but she stalled for she was certain of one thing: Henry, in his conniving little ways, had vacated the bed yet again, but Emma was still very much in it, dead to the world.

She thanked her lucky stars that they weren't in some teenage romantic comedy where she would find herself or Emma wrapped around the other, awaking in a flurry of awkward limbs and fumbling excuses. Though the thought wasn't entirely deplorable if hugging the younger woman was any indication. Not that Regina spent much time thinking about that, though the same couldn't be said for her dreams, but that was beside the point. Emma actually kept to her side of the bed, sleeping soundlessly on her back in a stable position with the space in between them still void of the little nugget that suggested their impromptu sleepover.

Where was Henry anyway?

Regina's paranoia opened herself up to the idea that perhaps her devious little prince had actually had an ulterior motive of staying awake nearly all night. He couldn't have planned to land herself and Emma in the same bed, could he? Nonsense, he was only three.

The faint fumblings in his room one door down had Regina locating him quite quickly. It sounded as if he himself was just waking, rustling the sheets as he stretched out. Henry was smart, and she wouldn't put it past him to devise over-the-top schemes to get what he wanted. He was her son, after all. If he was beginning to be manipulative now, god help her when he was older and held more forethought than instant gratification for toys and candy.

"I know you're awake."

Emma's gruff voice made Regina stiffen. She felt as if she had been caught, though for what she wasn't sure. It's not like Emma could read her mind. Instead, Regina peaked an eye open, finding the blonde still on her back though her head was turned facing Regina. Green eyes were nearly red, sore from the constant wakings of the night, though Emma looked quite awake as ever with her ever present smirk on her face. Regina popped open her other eye and offered a small grin, grimacing at the dryness of her mouth as she coughed to clear her throat. "Good morning."

"Morning."

Regina took a moment, smiling bashfully at the blonde before wiping her face into her pillow and stretching her back, feeling the blissful crack between her shoulder blades. Sated, she nestled onto her side and worried her lip, knowing Emma had been watching her every movement. "I apologize for last night," she said softly.

Emma furrowed her brow in confusion. "What part?"

"The part where my son was so hyperactive and refused to show us any mercy." Regina's cheeks had flushed pink that made the blonde chuckle.

"Life of a mother, I'm sure," Emma grinned. She paused momentarily in thought before voicing quietly, "for a second I thought you were gonna apologize for our..."

Regina shook her head and answered quietly. "No, I very much enjoyed that."

Emma's smile could have rivalled the rising sun, and Regina had to visibly look away before the blush could rise fully to her cheeks.

"So where is the trouble maker?"

Regina turned back to Emma with a curious brow before softening in understanding. "He's in his room."

"How can you tell?"

"Can't you hear him?" She pushed up onto her elbows and turned her head so her left ear was tuned toward Henry's room. "He's slipping out of bed."

Emma scrunched up her face, staying completely still to listen to what Regina had apparently heard, but the strained expression on the soldier's face had Regina chuckling.

She leaned closer to Emma, trying to direct the blonde's ear. "See?" She asked quietly as the soft sounds of floorboard creaking reached Regina's ear. "He's heading into his toy chest."

Emma continued to scrunch up her face but heard nothing.

"He's selected a toy, and now I imagine he's dropped to the floor and has begun playing." It was less than thirty seconds before Regina laughed softly to herself, and it was then Emma heard his door open and another one slam close. "And that would be him rushing to the potty."

"That's crazy sonic hearing you've got there," Emma commented.

"When your child is quiet, that is when you should be concerned," Regina said with a wry smile.

They smiled softly before Emma closed the gap between them and used her hand closest to Regina to poke the brunette's forearm. "We should do last night again sometime."

"The restless nights?"

"Sometimes restless nights have their benefits," Emma said with a smirk.

Regina bit her tongue and gauged Emma's expression. When the blonde didn't amend her statement, though there was the slightest hint of a controlled blush, Regina allowed herself to grin, shaking her head toward her pillow to partially hide her pleased reaction.

"But I mean hanging out. Just us," Emma clarified.

Regina faced Emma again, this time letting her own hand slither over to Emma's and letting their pinkies clasp. "I'd like that."

Regina couldn't help but remain locked in Emma's gaze. The events from what almost happened last night were still too fresh in her mind, and Regina wondered, perhaps if Emma was feeling it too. She hadn't pulled away when Regina entwined their fingers together, and she could have sworn Emma was just as trapped as she. This was a precarious situation, that much was true, but Regina couldn't help but feel exhilarated from it.

Before another thought could float through Regina's mind, she felt Emma tug her down, a 'shhh' hissed from pink lips as Regina was pulled onto Emma's shoulder.

"Pretend to sleep," Emma urged.

It was the soft pitter-patter of Henry's footie pyjamas down the hall that had Regina realizing Emma's intent. Without much thought, Regina shut her eyes, only realizing as Henry slammed the door open that she was all but nestled in the crook of Emma's neck like those ridiculous romantic comedies. She tried to be upset about the fact, but with Emma's muscled arm nestled around her shoulders, Regina fell into the younger woman's warmth with ease.

The two women evened their breathing at the last moment as Henry stopped from bursting into the room. When he noticed their apparent sleeping form, Regina heard him close the door ever so quietly, giving it a shush when the hinges decided to creak. She imagined him tip toeing to the bed, doing his best to remain quiet as he struggled to climb onto the queen. Her chest rose quickly in her attempt to hold in her snort when Henry audibly 'oofed' as he toppled onto the duvet. It was Henry's wiggling into the tight space between Emma and Regina that had Regina releasing her laugh as Henry squeezed his head from below in between the two women. His head knocked into Regina's jaw, but after a content sigh, he settled in between them. Regina peaked an eye open to see Henry with his eyes shut. She felt a gaze on her to see Emma staring at her with a smirk, and with a silent agreement, they both attacked Henry with tickles and kisses.

He squealed, kicking his feet so the duvet bunched about their legs. He tucked his chin into his neck, but Regina zeroed in under his arms while Emma attacked his belly. His laughter filled the room that bright Saturday morning, and for the briefest second, Regina was content with the fact that Henry was happy, laughing in her bed where she and Emma lay. The feeling passed when Henry squirmed away from his mother, but all that did was put him closer to Emma who wrapped a leg around him and blew raspberries on his cheeks.

"Stop!" He gasped, rolling onto his stomach to scurry away. He managed to pull the covers over him and crawl to the foot of the bed, a giggling lump shaking happily by Emma and Regina's feet. "Can't get me now."

"Oh, really?" Emma questioned as she and Regina sat up. With a conniving smirk, Emma threw off the covers while Regina grabbed hold of Henry around the middle. It was easy for he was curled into a ball on his knees with his hands placed over his head.

He screamed happily as Regina pulled him against her chest and sat up with him in her lap. "You're funny, Mommy," Henry praised, fighting off Regina's tickling fingers.

"You're funny, Henry," Regina mimicked sincerely before placing a kiss on her son's cheek to calm him down. "And where were you this morning?"

"I sleep in my room 'cause Mommy and Emma are too hot," he explain matter of fact.

"But you missed the snuggles this morning," Emma said with a feigned pout, sitting against the headboard beside the brunette.

"You snuggle with Mommy?" He asked the blonde. The question made Emma turn a light shade of pink before Regina interrupted, her own coy grin subtly directed at the younger woman before speaking seriously with her son. "Yes. No Henry's allowed."

It was a bold move on Regina's part to suddenly press herself against Emma's side. A month ago the thought of such carefree behaviour was unimaginable, but as of late she found herself more compelled to do so, to let herself go. So she teased her son and snuggled into Emma's arm. The blonde caught on quickly, almost automatically, and wrapped around the older woman with a playful smirk directed at the boy. "Yeah, no Henry's allowed," she chanted.

Despite the deliberate exclusion, Henry laughed at their chant and clapped along to it, jumping in at the last verse before he finally decided that that would simply not do. "Henry's allowed," he insisted, crossing his arms around his chest.

He pried Emma's arms away from Regina's torso and wrapped his own small arms around his mother. "See, Henry allowed."

Regina simply looked at him then at Emma, motioning her head toward her son. "Should we make an exception?"

Emma pursed her lips in thought. "I don't know, is Henry a good hugger?"

"Mommy says I'm the bestest." He released an arm from around Regina to include Emma, though his wingspan only caught to the middle of her stomach.

Emma gave him a squeeze and growled, "you do seem like the bestest."

"Henry's allowed then," Regina conceded.

Henry released them and jumped up onto his feet bouncing up and down in his cheer. He'd occasionally catch a leg or a thigh hidden under the duvet and stumble while the women held in a pained groan, but both Emma and Regina were there to catch his fall. When Regina's alarm clock habitually went off, the brunette shook her head at her son and eased herself out of bed. She caught Henry mid-jump and spun him around once before setting him on his feet where he dramatically feigned dizziness and fell to the ground. The whoosh of the blanket had her turning to see Emma also out of bed and already flipping out the duvet to make the bed.

"You get the kid. I'll get this," Emma said, smoothing out the covers and tucking them in until it was taut.

Regina donned her robe, cinching it tight around the waist before offering her hand to Henry who dawdled in getting up.

"Let's sleepover again, Mommy," Henry suggested, grabbing Regina's hand and pulling himself up.

"But no Henry's allowed," Emma teased.

He stuck out his tongue and clung tightly to Regina's leg. The brunette rolled her eyes at Emma as she picked up her son and made her way out of the room.

"What we doing today, Mommy?" Henry asked after he and Regina had changed and brushed their teeth with a quick shower for the latter as he climbed up onto the barstool with little help.

"I have a surprise."

"A surprise?" Emma asked from the doorway.

Regina held her breath as she took in the thin layer of sweat that coated Emma's torso and neck as the blonde wiped at her face with the tank top she had just removed, leaving her clad in only her sports bra and leggings. She knew Emma was fit and had caught the blonde doing push-ups with Henry on her back, or working out her legs with Henry on the soles of her feet when he thought they were playing airplanes, but she had never seen it firsthand before. Regina had always considered herself fit, but dear god, Emma was something else entirely. The blonde must have noticed Regina gaping for she looked down at herself and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, do I stink?"

"Yes," Henry said firmly.

Regina cleared her throat and turned to put the coffee on, happy for the distraction. "No," she said tightly. "Just come down when you're ready."

"Okay."

Regina waited until the sounds of Emma's feet reaching the top landing sounded before she exhaled deeply. Her mind was on overload apparently, and she had no idea how to stop it. What scared her the most was that she didn't want to stop it. Gods, she hadn't even put water in the pot. Fixing the coffee properly, Regina eyed the machine as her mind floated back toward what it had been stuck on recently.

Regina was in over her head. The perpetual giddy feeling she had by the mere thought of Emma Swan had her near nauseous. Though whether it was due to actual sickness or butterflies in the stomach, she wasn't sure. She was hoping for actual sickness to explain away this feeling. At least that was treatable.

Last night had changed things.

She felt more connected to Emma in a way that was different than her motherly bond with Henry. Emma was her best friend, that much she was sure of. She had shared with her secrets she had never told anyone. But it was also more than that. There was some sort of attraction there, Regina couldn't lie to herself now. She couldn't help but notice the lingering gazes and the meaningful comments that made her wonder if perhaps there was something more for Emma as well. It was something they needed to discuss, though Regina had no idea how to go about it.

She eyed Henry sitting quietly at the counter, colouring absent-mindedly in a colouring book of dinosaurs. He always told her that the greens and browns she chose to colour the dinosaurs were boring, despite the fact that Regina had told him it was realistic, even going so far as to showing her son pictures of the extinct beasts, but he shook his head and always chose to use the brightest colours. Currently a pterodactyl was getting quite the shade of violet and yellow. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his pleasant behaviour. Normally when Henry fussed and fought bedtime, he was quite grumpy the following day, yet here he was, content and quiet and already dressed for the day.

"Henry?" She called, gaining his attention.

"Yes?" He answered properly, though he only glanced up momentarily to continue his colouring

"How was your time with Ms. Tina, dear?"

He grinned to himself, clearly engrossed in some memory. "Fun. She come over again?"

"Not anytime soon," she muttered to herself and moved to lay her forearms on the counter, opposite Henry, and nudged her head against his. "What did you two do?"

He bumped her head back, harder than intended and murmured an 'ow', rubbing it before pressing it against his mother's. Regina giggled at his antic, though before she would have been worried about even the smallest of harms coming to her child, but she was learning to let him grow. She watched as he finished his pterodactyl and carefully took a red crayon, his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated on signing his name. It was all capitals, and the Y was backwards, but he held up the book for her to see. She smiled and praised him, kissing his head for emphasis.

"We watch Nemo and Treasure Planet and 'Lantis." He stood on his feet on the stool and reached for Regina across the table.

She lifted him up and over wordlessly and sat him on the edge of the island. "Three movies?" She asked trying to keep the disapproval out of her voice.

"Yeah," he grinned holding up three fingers. "And she read to me, and told me stories about fairies and pixies."

"Did she give you any sweets?" Regina asked, cutting to the chase.

He shook his head quickly though Regina still scrutinized him under a curious gaze. "I didn't," he said with a grin, tickling his mother's waist with insistence.

She squinted and changed tactics. "Did you have any sweets?"

All she got in return was a diverted gaze as Henry turned his head toward the backyard windows and a mischievous smirk.

"Henry Mills," Regina scolded as a sigh, tugging his head to face hers. She showed no smile and offered no sympathy when Henry stared wide-eyed up at her. "Do you remember what I told you before leaving?"

He shook his head with a pout.

"I told you to listen to Ms. Tina, and that you were not allowed to have any sweets," she reiterated. "Did you listen to Mommy?"

He shook his head again, guilty tears coating his eyes.

"What did you do instead?"

"I eat sweets by myself."

"You did," Regina nodded. "Are you going to do that again?"

He shook his head and hugged her around the middle, squeezing her back tightly, and Regina had no choice but to hug him back pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm not mad, sweetie," she clarified. "I just want to make sure nothing bad happens to you, and I can't be sure of that if you don't follow the rules I or the people who care for you set."

"I know," he mumbled into her shirt.

"And, what have I told you, if you eat too many candies, you won't grow up big and strong."

"Like Emma?" He wondered.

She smiled softly and nodded against his head. "Yes. Just like Emma."

"Ms. Tina said you and Emma had fun," Henry said when he pulled back.

Regina raised an eyebrow. "Oh, did she? What exactly did she say?"

"We can watch a movie and have fun like my mommy and Emma," Henry quoted.

Regina took a moment to decipher if Ms. Bell's statement had any hidden meaning to it, and while her instinct told her yes, Henry did have a tendency to reword things to simpler terms. She wouldn't be surprised if the pre-school teacher was grilling Henry about information, but to her knowledge she didn't need to. Other parents at daycare had told her that Henry had been sharing stories of his bestest friend Emma who was a superhero to his classmates.

"Did you watch 'Lantis?" Henry asked, swinging his feet against the counter suddenly upbeat again.

Regina shook her head. "We watched an adult movie."

Emma snorted when she entered the kitchen, her hair down in damp ringlets and her body out of her running clothes and into a pair of jeans and a long sleeve. "Not quite."

Regina rolled her eyes at the implication and glared at the blonde.

"All dressed and stink free," Emma announced as she walked over to the side with the stools. Wordlessly Regina handed over Henry to Emma who nestled him on the stool beside her.

She turned and leaned against the opposite counter, trying desperately not to notice that a few droplets of water were dancing along Emma's neck from her after-run shower and cleared her throat. "I have a surprise," she repeated from earlier.

"For me?" Henry asked.

"Nah, it's for me," Emma insisted, bumping his shoulder lightly.

Regina chuckled fondly at the little glare Henry gave her. Genetics had nothing on the well-practised look he picked up from his mother. Her chuckle turned into a breathy laugh when Emma stared right back at him, a silent staring contest already commencing. It was ridiculous how quickly Emma and Henry had bonded over the short amount of time she had been there. But then again, the blonde had a certain effect on her as well. She cleared her throat, interrupting the staring contest and silently retrieved the empty wicker basket from around her side of the island and placed it in between Emma and Henry.

"Apples?!" Henry yelled, standing up on the stool so quickly it nearly slid backwards from his weight. "We go pick apples?!"

"I've figured you've earned the right to learn my famous apple turnover recipe after last night's debacle," Regina said to Emma.

"You're really gonna share that with me?" She asked in wonderment.

Regina directed her attention to Henry. "As long as you get your shoes on, young man."

Henry nearly swan dived off the stool, but Emma's strong arms caught him around the waist and eased him back onto the tile, his legs already moving to run. When he left, Emma straightened and smiled softly. "I thought you would take that recipe to the grave," she joked.

"I suppose one other person knowing it won't hurt, though you're under strict orders not to repeat it to anyone else."

Emma made a show of zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

Regina chuckled, a curled hand lightly grazing her chin as they stood watching one another in comfortable silence. Emma's eyes seemed fixated on her, shifting from her eyes to her nose and then her lips. Regina inhaled sharply, a small hitch in her breathing as she caught Emma's eye again. There it was again, the way Emma was staring at her, looking past the mask Regina was so accustomed to wearing. Brown eyes shifted momentarily only to be locked onto green once more. "Emma, I-"

Henry came bounding in, his Velcro light up Spider-Man shoes already on with quite the load in his arms. He dropped an armful of shoes onto the kitchen tile, and Emma laughed out loud while Regina shook her head when they realized that Henry had grabbed Emma's boots, the left shoe of her sneakers, and two of Regina's heels though neither matched and both were for the same foot.

"Let's go." He picked up a heel and ran to his mother, trying to lift up her leg to put her heel on.

Regina nearly lost her balance and grabbed onto the counter to steady herself. She crouched down and tapped Henry's nose, her look set. He huffed but relented. "Pleeaase?"

They decided to walk to Town Hall for the sun had decided on making a lasting appearance that mid-morning, and as soon as the trio had turned onto the sidewalk toward Main, Henry latched onto both Emma and Regina's hand. He kicked up his legs, forcing the women to react quickly as they swung him back and forth over the sidewalk. "Again," he hopped happily and kicked up again.

Regina's arm had tired by the time they arrived to Town Hall twenty minutes later. She was thankful for the few people they had caught on the street to greet the Mayor, Emma, and Henry for Henry had stopped his swinging to allow the women to speak with other adults. Regina was especially thankful when Dr. Hopper struck up a brief conversation with Emma while Pongo entertained Henry. By the time they arrived to Town Hall, Regina's right arm was exhausted. But still, the walk had only continued to open her eyes and realize how much a part of the town Emma had already become. If she hadn't reminded Emma of their destination, she was sure the blonde would have been able to speak to the therapist for another hour.

"So this is the famed Honeycrisp tree I keep hearing about," Emma said when Henry sprinted off toward the tree, climbing onto a nearby bench that neatly lined the base and standing on it to hug the trunk. "Your dad gave it to you, right?"

Regina nodded as she and Emma walked together toward the tree. "I've had it since I was a little girl."

She strung the basket to the crook of her elbow and reached Henry in time to steady him as he stretched to grab an apple from a low-hanging branch.

"So we just pick them?" Emma asked

Regina looked to Henry, giving him a squeeze to prompt him to answer as he gently laid his carefully picked apple into the basket.

"You wait till they're hard," he announced expertly. Regina kissed his head proud.

"You feel them. Make sure they're firm and feel crisp," Regina explained motioning toward the tree. "Apple trees ripen from the outside in so try to avoid the fruit toward the center."

"Seems simple enough." Emma looked up to see an apple hanging above her. She gave it a squeeze and deemed it firm, plucking it carefully and placing it beside Henry's apple. "Did I do good?"

Regina placed a hand on her shoulder as she passed by Emma with a grin, the blonde returning her own crooked smile. "You're a natural."

"Did you know the Honeycrisp tree is the most vigorous and hearty of all apple trees?" Regina asked from the other side of the tree, catching Emma's eye between the leaves. "It can survive temperatures as low as forty below and keep growing. It can weather any storm."

"Is that why your dad gave it to you?" Emma asked, ducking her head under the branches, hooking an arm around the trunk to swing closer to Regina's side. "Because it's a resilient tree?"

"Perhaps," Regina shrugged coyly, turning her back to Emma to pick another apple and handed it to Henry who had become the official apple-putter-in-the-basketer, as he had dubbed it. The basket was near full, nearly reaching the brim of the basket. Regina cast a glance over her shoulder and smirked. "Or it could have been the flavour. I have yet to taste anything more delicious than the fruit it offers."

"Oh yeah?" Emma asked, closing the gap between her and Regina with careful steps. "I'll be the judge of that."

"Catch." Henry suddenly threw an apple haphazardly Emma's way.

Regina was quick with her reflexes, catching the fruit mere inches before it made contact with Emma's face. "Henry," Regina scolded.

Henry covered his mouth with both hands attempting to suppress the giggle that wanted to escape though a small part of him looked apologetic and fearful. Regina gave him a pointed look and a silent lecture before turning back to Emma, only just realizing how little space was between them.

"Nice catch," Emma whistled impressed.

Regina shrugged with a smug grin and proceeded to wipe the apple by the collar of her blouse then offered it to Emma.

The blonde eyed the fruit then Regina whose pupils had dilated in the last five seconds before taking the proffered Honeycrisp and biting into the flesh. Juice slithered from the apple and trickled down Emma's chin as she chewed methodically, keeping her own hooded gaze on the older woman before her. "You're right," Emma said once she had swallowed. "Delicious."

There it was again. That nauseous feeling like Regina wanted to throw up or float away or hide her face in the ground. It started in the pit of her stomach before heating up her torso and cheeks. She turned suddenly, forcibly ripping her stare away from Emma and placed a palm on her warm cheek. Perhaps it was a fever. Whatever it was, she pushed it down and clapped her hands once. "Are we ready to get these into the oven?"

Emma moaned as she took another bite of her second pastry. "Does everything you make taste like this?"

Regina smiled smugly and reclined along the arm of the sofa, her own plate nestled on the coffee table in front of them with flakes of pastry as the only evidence there had been anything on the plate. Henry's own plate was still on the table, and after he had finished his dessert and juice, and after his face was washed of the whiskers he'd painted on his cheeks with flour, he was in his room, settling down for a much needed nap.

"You could sell these," Emma commented again, catching the apple chunks threatening to spill out with the tip of her tongue.

Regina smirked, partially due to Emma's amazement at Regina's culinary skills and partially because of the flour that still marred her face. The blonde and her son had discovered flour face painting and Emma was currently sporting a look similar to Gene Simmons, though who that was Regina had no idea, but the look was quite, well, adorable and idiotic on the blonde all at the same time.

"I'll keep that in mind should my underground mafia business go under."

"With the amount of times you've joked about that, I can't tell if this is one of those truths within a lie type of thing."

Regina laughed, reaching over toward the table to grab her glass of cider and murmured into it. "You'll never know."

"You know what would make this better?" Emma asked rhetorically, suddenly standing with her turnover and heading toward the kitchen.

"Excuse me?" Regina gaped offended, turning to watch the blonde go.

Within moments, Emma returned with the cinnamon shaker in her hand and sat back down, carefully slicing through the crust of the pastry to get to the filling where she sprinkled cinnamon within the filling.

"There's already cinnamon in it," Regina argued petulantly.

"Not enough. It'll give it more of a kick." Emma bit into it, enjoying the more pronounced taste of cinnamon as the filling melted in her mouth. She offered the plate to Regina. "You try."

"No," she glared crossing her arms.

Emma scooted over so her tucked in legs were nearly on top of Regina's. She gave the older woman a light smack on the arm, receiving a smouldering look in return. "Come on, don't be mad. Give it a try."

Regina rolled her eyes, letting Emma flounder for another moment before relenting and opened her mouth to be fed. Emma grinned and placed the turnover where Regina could bite and then sat back, waiting for her reaction. "So?"

Regina chewed slowly, keeping her face blank not to let Emma inflate her ego any bigger than it already was. When she swallowed, she rolled a shoulder casually. "I still prefer my original recipe."

Emma laughed rolling her eyes and took another bite. "Party pooper." She adjusted her spot, cleaning off the last of the pastry before placing her plate back delicately on the table. Her arm held her head up on the back of the couch while her left leg was tucked under neatly with her right. "What about this lasagna I heard so much about?"

Regina shook her head. "You haven't earned that one yet, especially after tampering with my turnover recipe."

Emma nudged Regina's heel with her foot. "Hey, I'm leaving soon. What if this is the only chance you can show me how to make that?"

There was a brief moment of hesitation on Regina's face that she masked quickly with a belligerent scoff. "That is not my problem, soldier."

"Then I won't teach you how to hotwire a car."

Regina scrunched up her face. "Why would I need to know that?"

"You never know."

Regina shook her head at the absurdity and stood, gathering the plates. "I think I'll take my chances."

Emma followed with the glasses and stood side by side Regina at the sink where the brunette had already let the water run and was squirting some soap onto a sponge. They washed dishes in companionable silence, Regina washing and Emma drying until the blonde nudged the older woman lightly. "Apple picking was fun," she said in a quiet voice.

"I'm going to get Henry his own fruit tree so that we can start some sort of tradition."

"He'll love that."

When Regina handed Emma the last of the plates to dry, she took the opportunity to dampen a hand towel and wipe it across Emma's face, freezing momentarily when Emma gasped lightly and hastily moved to place the dry plate on the counter. She remained still as Regina removed the flour mask, Regina very aware that Emma's eyes were trained on her, locked fiercely the entire time before Regina smiled and set the towel down. "All done."

"Not a Kiss fan?"

"Not that kind of kiss," Regina said so quietly that Emma had squinted, wondering if she had heard correctly. She gasped softly when the words processed in her mind, and her eyes darted to the red lips of the older woman.

The courage that had flooded Regina momentarily suddenly left her, and she bit her lip taking a step back, but Emma moved with her, closing the space between them even more. She chanced a glance upward to see steely green eyes watching her intently, waiting for her to move, waiting for permission, waiting for something.

Regina inhaled sharply when Emma moved her head in slowly but stopped just short as their noses almost brushed.

"Regina?" Emma asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"What are we doing?" Emma's hand was on her waist, tentative and unsure. Neither woman had no no idea how it got there, but neither were rushing to eliminate the contact.

Regina leaned into it instead, taking the smallest step forward. "I have no idea," she answered honestly.

"I like it though."

"Me too."

Emma grinned, and it was all Regina could do to smile back and let that nauseous feeling that made her insides churn and her heart flutter take control because even if she didn't know exactly what was going on, even if she had no plan or no idea what to do when it came to Emma Swan, she was thrilled that whatever she was feeling, Emma was feeling it too.

The phone rang, and Regina sprung apart from Emma, only then realizing how close they had been, not just then but in the last twenty-four hours. She flushed and cleared her throat, apologizing for no reason as she walked to the phone on the kitchen wall.

"Yes?" She answered the phone hastily, briefly catching Emma's eye as the blonde leaned against the counter looking just as flustered as Regina felt. She shook her head when she realized who was calling. "You forgot your cell phone here, Ms. Bell? No, I will return it to you on Monday."

She hung up the phone and leaned against the wall, tilting her head at the blonde.

"So," Emma began, crossing her arms over her chest with a playful smirk on her face, "want to watch an adult movie?"

Regina rolled her eyes but lead the way back to family room, a pleased Emma trailing behind her.

In the week following their hang out, Emma and Regina found themselves spending nearly every waking moment, and even a few sleeping moments together. Emma had an inkling that what she felt toward Regina was something more than a physical attraction long before their makeshift date, but now she was sure. She loved Regina's mind, the way her nose wrinkled when Emma said something idiotic or the way her normally dark chocolate eyes lightened to a golden brown when she was happy. The fact that more than a few of those smiles were directed at Emma had the blonde throwing one of her own.

With each passing day, they allowed to let whatever it was between them flourish. They cuddled on the couch during television time, Emma's arm draping the back of the couch before it eventually fell across Regina's shoulder, hugging her protectively though Henry squished himself between them when he wasn't dancing to the songs playing on the current Disney movie of the week. More times than not whenever they entered a room, Regina would always be one step ahead, taking Emma by the hand to follow until eventually they'd allow their fingers to clasp naturally. They spoke longer and longer, well into the night where they had fallen asleep on the couch. More little touches were shared between them, a hand on the back or grasping at hands to gain attention, and without fail they would smile knowingly, feeling the electricity course through them. By the end of the week, Emma was back in Regina's bed simply to continue their conversation where the women yearned to make the night last longer.

It scared her how much she liked Regina. More than liked Regina most of the time, but whenever that thought flourished she pushed it down because how could she feel like that in just under a month? But it wasn't a month. Not really. She'd known Regina, really knew her, for years. Emma let out a breathy laugh at that thought. Who would have thought Emma Swan of all people could get through to Storybrooke's Mayor?

It'd be wrong to start anything with her now. Emma was going back to Georgia next week. But when she got back, maybe they could explore things together. Maybe their little innocent touches would have more significance placed on them. But not now. Now it was too late to do anything except enjoy what they had.

The first Saturday of May had Emma without the brunette who constantly filled her thoughts. She wasn't even with Henry, which raised red flags for the blonde when Regina encouraged Emma to hang out with Ruby when the young waitress called on her suddenly, and to Regina's dismay, Mary Margaret as well. She'd have to figure out the story behind Regina's undisguised mask of disgust when Emma mentioned she and Ruby would be at Mary Margaret's loft.

But for the time being, she was at Mary Margaret's apartment sitting around an old wooden table with mismatched chairs and more nail polish in front of her than she had ever seen in her life.

"Are you sure you don't want me to give you a manicure?" Mary Margaret asked while Ruby filed her own nails into cat claws.

Emma shook her head, continuing to nurse her hot cocoa. "I don't like to have them painted while in service."

"Really?" The waitress asked in surprise. "Why not?"

"In case anything happens, the medics can use your nails to check your vitals," the blonde explained. She picked up spare file and examined her nails. "I can shape them though."

"That's so crazy," Mary Margaret oohed in amazement. She leaned closer to Emma, her elbow resting on the table as her hand held up her chin. "What's it like?"

"Pretty sure that's confidential, MM," Ruby snorted and dropped the file to put a base coat on.

Emma laughed. "You two make it seem like I'm a secret agent."

"Henry calls it a knight," Mary Margaret informed. At Emma's questioning look, she continued. "I babysat for him once."

"And only," Ruby snorted.

The pixie-haired woman flushed a deep pink and fiddled, momentarily forgetting about the wet paint on her nails and frowned. "It could have happened to anybody, and we were at the park, and-"

"Oh my god, that was you?" Emma exclaimed half amused and half angered. "You're the one who was watching Henry when he got lost in the forest?"

Mary Margaret stammered, baffled, ashamed, and embarrassed all at the same time.

Ruby just laughed and blew on her nails. "You should have seen Regina. She was livid. She got up and left her meeting and rounded up everyone she saw on the way to the park to start a search. I swear, she was going to rip Mary Margaret's heart out of her chest for losing Henry."

"He was hiding in a bush. It was only for half an hour," reasoned the school teacher.

"He was two!" Emma argued, her voice rising an octave. She was protective of Henry when Regina had written about the experience and she hadn't even met him. Now that she knew the landscape of Storybrooke and just how vast those woods were, she was just as protective as Regina if not more so.

Mary Margaret ducked her head as Ruby spoke. "That's why Mayor Mills always brings Henry into her meetings now or schedules them while Henry is at daycare. Until you came to town that is."

"Yeah, that's just 'cause I'm at home."

Ruby smiled softly, pausing her painting to examine Emma thoughtfully. "Home, huh?" Ruby wiggled her eyebrows knowingly.

It was Emma's turn to blush, but she didn't want to deny that that's what the mansion felt like, that Regina and Henry meant so much.

"I think it's sweet," Mary Margaret chimed in. "It's nice to see Regina open up to someone."

"Could have been you if you didn't lose her kid," Ruby gibed in a sing-song voice.

She threw a cotton ball at Ruby and glared, but all the waitress did was bat it away like a ball, making Emma laugh at their interaction.

"Aren't you a teacher?" She questioned Mary Margaret. "How'd you lose him?"

If Emma thought the pink she turned minutes ago was deep, it was nothing to the red she was sporting now. "I can't remember," Mary Margaret stammered, buttoning up her cardigan under her chin.

Ruby grinned knowingly but continued to paint her nails silently. Under Emma's hawkeye gaze, the school teacher folded like a house a cards. "David, that nice handsome deputy, he walked by and said hello, and we got to talking, but it was only for two minutes!" she insisted in a single breath.

"I hope he was worth it," Emma muttered with a restrained eye roll.

"He's married," Ruby eagerly provided.

Emma had undergone training to school her expressions under the most torturous of circumstances, but the train wreck that was Mary Margaret's life had her eyes widening a fraction of an inch. She blinked and it was gone, but damn, did she sometimes forget that even roses have their thorns, or rather even chaste-looking school teachers have their crushes that tested their strength.

"Thanks, Ruby," Mary Margaret glared darkly at her friend.

"It's not like she wouldn't have found out. If she and the Mayor start cozying up, she's gonna see a lot more of this place," the waitress argued.

"You know I'm sitting right here, right?" Emma said with a laugh. "There's nothing going on between me and Regina."

"Right." Ruby went back to her painting while Mary Margaret smartly said nothing, though the brief look both brunettes shared with each other spoke volumes.

"So what is she up to?" Emma asked bluntly and suddenly, ignoring the waitress's presumption in favour of getting some information. She knew a ruse when she saw one, and despite Regina being quite the master manipulators, the two brunettes in front of her were not.

Her insight was correct when they both paused, Ruby with the brush to her nail as a drop fell onto her finger and Mary Margaret accidentally putting too much force behind the cuticle pusher.

Ruby was the first to get her bearings and shrugged casually. "You live with her."

"Do you really not know or did she force you not to tell?"

"I think we could all use some more cocoa." Mary Margaret stood with a tight grin on her face as she hastily moved to her kitchen alcove.

"Will I like it?" Emma asked Ruby quietly when Mary Margaret made herself busy with warming the milk.

"Oh yeah."

It was nearly three hours later before Ruby suddenly called their day to a close, after a well-timed message from her phone, Emma noticed. She was rather impressed and a little amused that once Emma had called them out on their secret, they had clammed up about Regina entirely. The blonde tested their resistance, Ruby's especially, when she made a comment that she caught Regina spooning the pillow. Ruby had to physically bite her knuckle and get up from the couch to reel herself in. By the time the message arrived, Ruby and Mary Margaret had done their nails, and they had all eaten a light lunch and sat in front of Mary Margaret's small TV to watch a movie.

The movie wasn't quite over before Ruby suddenly stood and announced that they should bring Emma home before Regina threw a fit. The blonde rolled her eyes at that but didn't argue. It was her last weekend here, and despite spending the last three and a half weeks with the Mills, she was already to miss them. Plus, she was eager to know why she had been kicked out of the house. She liked surprises just as much as Regina did. So by the time the trio got into Ruby's Camaro and headed back toward Mifflin, Emma was looking forward to it. But by the way the two women remained unnervingly quiet, Emma had to wonder what the hell was up and how the hell Regina of all people managed to con their help into taking her out.

Emma was surprised when they pulled up to the mansion and both Ruby and Mary Margaret got out of the car waiting for her.

"It's such a nice day," Mary Margaret said with a beam, pulling her cardigan closer around herself.

"Yeah, if not just a tad bit strange," she muttered the last part to herself.

She walked up the pathway steps, wary of the two trailing behind her but figured asking questions would be moot. Her keys fiddled in her hand before she found the spare key to the mansion and opened the door.

She didn't know what she was expecting, but the empty foyer was sort of anti-climatic after the imaginary build up in her mind. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and it simply looked as if Regina and Henry were out for the day. She was about to turn and question the women behind her, but it was the faint sound of Henry's suppressed giggle that had her raising an eyebrow and following the source of the sound.

She moved quietly, her boots soft against the hardwood flooring as she kept to the walls. The dining room up ahead was as it was, if for a few of Henry's misplaced toys. The parlour to her left was immaculate as always. One more step and she peeked her head into the family room and gasped out loud.

"Surprise!"

Emma froze at the entry way of the living room where thoughtfully decorated streamers were hung about the room. But that wasn't what drew Emma's attention. It was Regina with Henry in her grasp standing front and center in front of a 'Happy Birthday' banner, bright matching smiles adorning their faces. Her mind could just barely process that on the coffee table in front of them was a rather large cake that said both Happy Birthday and We'll Miss You, Archie and Ms. Bell and Graham were standing around the Mills with wide smiles as they clapped her entrance. She looked suddenly when Ruby nudged her with a knowing grin as she and Mary Margaret stepped into the room. She was about to turn back to the Mills when in the corner of the room she saw August, sitting in his wheelchair with a smug smirk hidden behind his scruff.

The room quieted down as they waited for Emma to move, but all she could do was stand there paralyzed, her breathing halted as her eyes welled up. Without another thought she turned and sprinted from the room, needing just a minute to get her bearings. She only realized that she had opened the front door and stepped outside when she placed a palm against a pillar to support herself as a single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

"Emma." A warm palm cautiously rested on her shoulder and slid down to her forearm. "Emma, I- I'm sorry, if I've overstepped-"

Emma turned suddenly and engulfed Regina in a tight hug, burying her face into brown hair, inhaling her lavender scent. This was all too much, she was feeling so much, but she didn't care because it was such a good yearning that even though she constantly reminded herself that it wouldn't last, she would always take this option that maybe, just maybe she found a place that feels like home, people to call her family. A place where she could stay and be wanted.

Emma pulled back slowly, tucking Regina's hair back behind her ear when their locks became entangled, but she kept her forehead pressed against the older woman's and closed her eyes, breathing in the moment for as long as it would last.

"You did this for me?" It was phrased as a question, but Emma already knew the answer to it.

Regina nodded against her head. "You've never had a proper birthday party before, and you're leaving next week, so October was out of the question." She tilted her head ever so slightly. "I brought it up with Ms. Bell, and it may have escalated from there."

Emma chuckled lightly and opened her eyes. They drifted closed when Regina removed her hands from around Emma's waist to wipe away the moisture that gathered under the blonde's eyes. She left her hand there, cupping Emma's cheek, and all Emma could do was lean into her palm, step closer into Regina's warmth.

Not for the first time all week, Emma's head tilted forward, willing to break the rule she set for herself just this once and feel the soft red lips that had been tantalizing her since she came to Storybrooke. "Regina, can I-"

"Mommy." Henry's voiced sounded muffled, and though the women didn't spring apart, they turned their heads to see Henry's face pressed up against the glass panel, his teeth barred and his nose scrunched up like a pig. "What you doing?"

Emma chuckled lightly and released Regina, though as if magnetized their hands found each other as they linked their fingers together. She tapped the glass in front of Henry's face, and the boy pulled back, wiping his face from the moisture he created there and helped the women open the door. Before they fully stepped over the threshold, Emma slowed her pace and swiftly kissed Regina's cheek.

Regina gasped and pressed her palm to where Emma's lips had been, but the blonde grinned and squeezed their conjoined hands. "Thank you."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

AN: I couldn't reply to all you awesome people in your reviews because I went over my Internet plan, but you will hear a reply from me within a few days. Thank you all so much for your support! Also, you guys should check out this wicked awesome fanvideo inspired by this story created by regal-duckling: regal(dash)duckling(period)tumblr(period)com / post/ 82586794519/ every- night- a- swan- queen- fanvid- inspired- by. A couple instances in this chapter were inspired by King of the Ashers' suggestions, so I hope you like them.

Emma had never had a real birthday party before. It was one of the fun facts she had shared with Regina on their night of Twenty Questions, uncertain feelings, and missed opportunities. Even on base, she rarely divulged intimate information about herself. She was private and she liked to keep it like that, but August had taken it upon himself to give her some sort of dessert with a candle on it for the last three years (last year August had claimed shepherd's pie was still considered a pie and strategically placed corn kernels on top of the mashed potatoes in the form of a candle), and along with Regina's presents which continued to surprise her, it was the closest thing to a party she ever had.

That is until now.

Now there were people surrounding her, people she genuinely liked and for some reason found her amicable as well. In three weeks the friendships she had formed in Storybrooke were more than all the interactions she had ever had in her entire life. It was bittersweet, sitting in the mansion's family room after blowing out her cake, red velvet she had discovered after Henry had shoved cream cheese frosting in both hers and Regina's faces. The comical silence that surrounded the room after that one made Emma want to laugh, and August did since as the new token outsider of Storybrooke he was unaware of the Mayor's generally sour disposition, but then Regina laughed, and even though Emma had heard it hundreds of times before, right then, in that moment as they stood behind her birthday cake with her friends surrounding her, it was the most glorious sound in the world. Melodious yet dark just as the brunette woman herself, Regina laughed and smothered her frosting-creamed face against her son's, the trio matching in their disaster as the rest of the party deemed the situation safe enough to enjoy in the Mayor's unexpected behaviour.

Regina had given Henry's cheek a quick wipe, the boy squirming when his mother dampened the napkin by blotting it with her tongue, and Emma watched amused as Henry reached for her in an attempt to escape his mother's hold, her own napkin wiping at her face. She didn't know what had possessed her, but caring little for the audience before them, Emma reached for Regina's cheek, using the pad of her thumb to wipe away the smallest amount of frosting that Regina had missed on the edge of her lips and thought nothing of it as she sucked the cream into her mouth. She did notice the way Regina breath stagnated and how her pupils dilated, but as clear as it was on her face, Regina had ducked her head and exited the room, Henry still positioned on her hip.

She had left the family room twenty minutes later, taking her time to thank the people who had shown up, rolling her eyes at Ruby's cheeky grin, and sitting down with August, amazed that he was even in Storybrooke. By the time the party had dispersed for refreshments or otherwise, Emma noticed Regina still hadn't returned to the room and ventured off to look for her. She was only a few steps out of the family room and into the hallway of the kitchen when she spotted the woman in question pulling out spinach puffs from the oven and talking quietly with none other than Tina Bell. Henry was nowhere to be seen, so Emma could only assume that the boy had snuck off as he was so prone to do, but under the sound of quiet chattering from the adults in the house, she could hear the soft pitter patter of Henry's gait somewhere in the house. She could hear him, so he wasn't getting into too much trouble.

It pleased Emma to know that despite Regina's trepidations about relationships, friendships or otherwise, she had allowed Tina's help to plan something for her. The thought continued to make the butterflies in her stomach flutter wildly, and Emma let the pleased grin etch her face. She turned quietly, allowing them the time to talk. Intending to return to the family room to grab a plate for the lasagna she saw Regina put out on the dining room table, Emma detoured when she heard a restrained grunt and made her way to the parlour.

August was sitting on the couch facing away the window, his prosthetic leg outstretched as he pulled his pant leg up to reveal the metal and plastic contraption rising from his boot. She was about to sit down with him, but a small audible gasp had her squinting, and there behind the opposite couch was Henry, hidden behind the couch on all fours with his head sticking out just under the armrest.

His eyes were blown wide and his lips were parted as August fiddled with his leg, but nothing compared to how cute it was when he pressed both hands to his mouth in shock so quickly he nearly fell face first onto the carpet when August, with the smallest nearly imperceptible smirk on his face, moved his wrist up to his mouth, fiddled with his watch, and spoke in some high pitched gibberish.

"Orion-1 to Mothership, successful landing and infiltration. Planet filled with civilization. Do not attack," August said in a robotic voice that sounded similar to Data.

"I knew it!" Henry exclaimed quietly, moving to retreat back behind the couch.

Emma rolled her eyes when she saw August covering his mouth with his fist as he shook with silent chuckles. She moved the short distance to catch Henry's retreating, crawling form, and the boy nearly screamed in terror until he realized it was Emma who had him. He clung to her neck fiercely, burying his face into the crook as Emma walked them over to the couch where August sat, finally composed but immensely proud of his joke.

"Stop teasing him," Emma scolded, attempting to reposition Henry so he sat outwards on her lap, but he refused to move.

"I don't know what you're talking about," August smirked.

Emma grabbed August's wrist and spoke into his watch. "Mothership, Orion-1 is an idiot."

Henry gasped obnoxiously. "That's a bad word," he scolded though kept his face buried nonetheless.

August could barely contain his laughter and gave a gasp of his own, pointing accusingly at the blonde. "That is a bad word."

Henry eyed him suspiciously but nodded his agreement. Emma just barely refrained from rolling her eyes at August but gave Henry a dutiful squeeze. "You're right, it is a bad word. Don't tell Mommy I said it."

"Or what? Regina will give you a spanking?" August guffawed.

This time Emma did glare and huffed out her annoyance. "You wish," she muttered.

"You already blew out your candles, is that what you wished for?"

She made sure Henry wasn't looking to flick August behind the ear, not only for his joke but for laughing at her as well.

August held his chest wounded, but Emma simply rolled her eyes with a playful smile dotting her face. Her attention was drawn from the man when Henry lifted his head and took Emma's chin in both of his hands. He cast a wary glare to August, none too subtly eyeing his leg before whispering in the loud way only toddlers do. "He's a cyborg like John Silver."

Emma almost let out a bark of laughter and made a mental note to talk to Regina about how much Treasure Planet this kid watched, but she held in her amusement and nodded solemnly. "Looks like him, doesn't he?"

Henry nodded. "But no eye patch," he added quickly.

Emma bumped August's shoulder and successfully moved Henry so he could face the older man. "He's a nice cyborg. He's, he's like my brother," she said with a bashful smile.

Her embarrassment was quickly replaced with annoyance when August playfully nudged her chin with his knuckles.

August leaned over and placed a hand over his mouth, barring Emma from his and Henry's conversation as he whispered conspiratorially. "She's probably one too."

"No!" Henry giggled, pushing August back. He looked up at Emma, but his roving hands had the woman knowing he was looking for any metal under her skin. "Are you?"

August laughed and shook his head before Emma could answer. "She wasn't cool enough."

Emma grimaced with an apology in her eyes, but August simply smiled and squeezed her shoulder in understanding. Their silent communication was disrupted when Henry tilted his head, a move Emma noticed Regina did often when she was curious and determining the best course of action. He crawled over to Emma's other leg closer to August, one hand still gripping the blonde's neck as he twisted his body to face the man. "Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes," August admitted, stretching out his leg for Henry to get a better look. "But a lot of the times my foot gets really itchy, and I can't scratch it."

Henry squinted and looked down at his boot clearly encased around something. "Why?"

"It's not there."

"Why?"

"I got hurt too badly and they had to take it away."

"Why?"

"Sometimes it's better to just remove the bad stuff."

"Why?"

August looked up exasperated, but Emma smirked, pleased that someone else was on the receiving end of Henry's curiosity. Emma rolled a shoulder, letting August fend for himself.

"Because they found out I'm a cyborg," he concluded with a nod.

Henry gave one of his own as if that answered all of his questions. He suddenly leaned away from Emma to reach over to August's neck, tugging at the ball chain there and lifting it from beneath his shirt. Squinting at the tags, he turned back to Emma and pulled her own tags from around her neck so fiercely the blonde choked a little and ended up knocking heads with her Sergeant. "It's the same," Henry concluded after a very intense inspection of the tags.

"Told you," August whispered. "She's a cyborg."

"No," Henry insisted, almost scoffing at the older man who looked amused by the attitude of the three-year old. He turned to Emma holding up the tags. "Can I have it too?"

Emma smiled tightly, weaving the tags out of Henry's fingers, letting them drop over her shirt. "These are special. You get them when you work at a job like mine and August's."

"I can do it too," the boy insisted.

Both August and Emma looked at each other solemnly before the younger woman bounced Henry on her knee once. "I don't know, kid. Mommy's gonna miss you a lot."

"But you like a bwave knight!" He exclaimed.

Emma's heart melted at the adoration in his eyes. It was moments like these where she felt untarnished pride to put on the uniform, where every bad thing she had ever seen or done didn't matter because someone, even if it was just a child, thought she was a hero. She kissed his forehead gently and held his hands in her own earnestly. "You're a brave knight too, Sir Henry. And before you think about working like me and August, you gotta make sure Mommy is safe. Can you be Mommy's knight for me?"

"I am," he promised dutifully with a nod of his head.

A loud bark from Pongo, jumping excitedly at the threshold of the parlour, interrupted Henry's inquisition and distracted him from his newfound cyborg.

"Hi Pongo!" He greeted happily. The dog barked again, running in one quick circle at the entrance of the room, and Emma had to hand it to Regina. She even had the Dalmatian, whom she claimed to tolerate only barely, trained not to enter into one of her more formal sitting areas. Henry crawled off of Emma's lap and hurried after the dog, gripping Pongo's collar lightly as they trailed away from the room.

"Sorry," Emma apologized, motioning her head to Henry's retreating form. "His favourite movie is Treasure Planet."

August held up his hand in understanding. "Kid's curious. Great taste in movies though."

"He wants to grow out his hair like Jim Hawkins and get a rat's tail too," she laughed. "Regina hasn't figured out how to talk him out of it yet."

"Tell him he has to get the piercing too," August suggested. "That'll solve everything."

"Or make it worse," she groaned at the thought. Tucking her leg underneath her, she shifted to face August, an arm resting against the back of the couch as a soft smile graced her lips. "I can't believe you came down all this way."

"Really? You can't believe that?" He said offended. "Come on, Swan, that's what families do."

"Not all of them," she said dryly.

"That's because they weren't family." He leaned over to pat her leg. "It's been different for a while now, hasn't it?"

It took Emma a second to realize that yeah, August was right. Despite the trouble she had gotten into at the Johnson's, she had had August with her there, and then again when she enlisted, and now as her relationship with Regina and Henry growing by the day, it was surreal to have everyone she cared for all under one roof, in some middle of nowhere town that Emma would never have visited if the stars hadn't aligned. She shook her head, unbelieving of her luck but accepting it as it came. "Yeah," she admitted. "It's been pretty good for a while."

"Plus I had to see this for myself," August waggled his eyebrows knowingly. "Quite the friend you've got there, Emma. This time make sure that bedroom door is locked."

Emma rolled her eyes, but the thought of kissing Regina behind closed doors with no interruption was so captivating it took more mental resources to tap down on the image, for now at least. "Come off it."

"I'm just saying, you got a good one," August grinned. "She basically tracked me down. Hey, who's Sidney Glass?"

"A reporter." Emma squinted. "Why?"

"Sounded pretty frightened on the voicemail if I didn't contact Regina immediately and come to Storybrooke for a special event."

"A special event?" She asked incredulously. "It's just my birthday party."

"Pretty telling, isn't it?" He smirked when Emma ducked her head in pleased embarrassment. "What's going on with you two?"

This time Emma looked up, shrugging though not upset with it. "No idea," she began, "but, I don't know, I know that I, you know, like, like her."

"Like-like, that's serious," August teased.

Emma socked him in the arm and held him with a glare. "I like her, okay?"

"So what's stopping you?"

"What's stopping me?" Emma let out a dry laugh. "That techie, Dean Cooper, doesn't ever call his boyfriend and whenever he comes back from leave he says he visited his mom. I'm pretty sure the president himself would have my ass if they found out."

"No offence, Emma, but since when have you given a damn?"

"That's rich coming from you."

"Coming from me as your superior and your brother it should be loaded with golden goodness," August said pointedly. "And I call bullshit."

"On what?"

"On you being scared of what the job thinks," he answered simply. "So cut the on the offensive crap and tell me what's really stopping you?"

Emma let out a breathy sigh and leaned her head on her hand as she rested it against the couch. After a long moment of silence, she finally relented. "I'm going back next week," she said quietly.

"And?"

"And? And I don't want to start something with her that I can't finish," she explained, waving her hands around to prove her point. "She deserves more than a week and something better than a letter once a month."

"That's the life we signed up, Corporal," he reminded her. "Ramirez hasn't met his kid yet, and Hogan has had to postpone his wedding twice."

"I know," she said dejectedly. After a restrained sigh, she muttered quietly. "But I didn't."

August raised a questioning eyebrow for Emma to continue. She floundered for words as her hands waved wildly as if they knew what she wanted to say. "I was alone my whole life, and I never had anyone to miss or someone to miss me, and then I joined the army, and it very well might have been the greatest thing I've ever done because at least there I had you...and then everything changed."

August stayed quiet, his eyes narrowed, and Emma felt as if he was examining her, every minute body movement and every turn of phrase that she spoke. She did her best to remain as still as possible, her expression changing from conflicted to neutral in half a second, but it was no use for August's eyebrows rose to his hairline in wonderment. "You got it bad, kid."

Emma let out a groan and shook her head. "I know. It might just be hero complex," she reasoned mainly to herself.

"Who's saving who?" August asked wryly. When Emma's silence permeated the room, he continued. "Look, let me embark a little bit of wisdom on you. I know you feel guilty about my leg, Emma. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that." He held up a hand when she finally decided to speak, silencing her preempted apology. "I forgive you," he said sincerely.

Emma turned away, running a hand through her hair to gain her composure, but the guilt of what had happened to August seemed to come crashing down on her.

He leaned closer and placed his hand on her arm and squeezed until she looked at him again. "I would have lost a lot more than my leg if it wasn't for you, though, so thanks for that."

"I didn't-"

"You came back for me, Emma," he said in earnest. "So whatever you think about ruining my life, you didn't. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you."

"You're just saying that," she insisted.

"Because I am so sensitive to your feelings," August snorted. "I'm saying it because it's true, and what I learned from it, you need to as well."

"And what's that?" Emma questioned with an edge to her voice, hating the vulnerability she found herself in, but the burden that rested on her shoulders every time she thought about August seemed to have lightened as he spoke.

"We don't have a lot of time, us especially. You know infantry men have a high burn out rate," he began. "Every choice we make can either number our days or extend it, and every choice we make can make us happy right now or we can choose to live a long and miserable life. Are you really not gonna see what whatever you have with Regina is because you think it's not the right time?"

"It's not the right time," she insisted, though her voice faltered.

"There is no right or wrong time, Swan," he cried exasperated. "Time is going to pass you whether you want it to or not. Make it the right time."

Emma let his words nestle deep inside her brain. She may be hard-headed and stubborn, but she wasn't stupid, and she could hear the truth in August's words despite her fears and reservations. Good things were always few and far between in Emma's life, and when they did happen, there was always that niggling feeling in the back of Emma's mind that it wouldn't last, and maybe this time would be just like every time where her good fortune was on a time limit, but here was an opportunity presenting itself to her in the form of killer heels and an obsession with dragons, and Emma wanted to hold onto it desperately with every fibre of her being. The odds that she'd be gifted with something even remotely close to a normal relationship were minuscule, but Emma was never normal, and Regina would never compare herself to the average person, so she needed to get her head out of her ass and do something.

"Would you at least try with her?" August asked imploringly, a quiet curiosity laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Her head snapped up at the question because of how quickly her mind had jumped to the answer no matter how difficult her tongue was having to voice it. Because really, no matter how hard Emma tried to deny the more than attraction feelings she was having toward Regina, a letter a month sounded pretty damn good if it meant that this makeshift family they had created for the past three weeks were hers to call her own. It was fast and messy and Emma had no idea when she had suddenly decided that staying in one place, in Storybrooke no less, was something she yearned for, but she wanted it so goddamn much that she debated shooting herself in the foot just to stay. But if they could make it work... "Yeah," she found herself saying breathlessly.

August grinned, but his eyes moved past Emma to look at something behind her, and Emma turned in time to see Regina looking surprised and doe-eyed, though if she was apologetic for the intrusion or if she had been standing there for god knows how long, Emma was uncertain.

"Emmaa!" Henry yelled, his quick and heavy gait thundering down the the hardwood loud enough to distract the three adults. They all turned just as Henry rounded the corner of the parlour, nearly colliding into the back of Regina's legs before forcing his mother's legs apart to push under them, an excited grin on his face and a hand behind his back. "Happy birthday!"

He stopped in front of the blonde and whipped out his favourite dinosaur, nearly as old as the boy himself but well-loved and well-worn just the same. She noticed the stitch in its arm when the car door had accidentally caught the dinosaur as it closed, and Henry, eager to save his best friend, yanked with all his might, pulling the dragon free but ripping the arm off in the process. He had cried for days afterwards until Regina returned the dragon to her son, arm stitched back to near perfection and placed in a sling. Save for the grease stain she couldn't get out, Regina had written to Emma the story, and Emma knew just how special this toy was to Henry for Regina to go to such lengths. Emma lost count how many times her heart clenched at the things the Mills had done for her in the past day alone, but with her walls shaken from August's talk, she nearly felt tears coming to her eyes as Henry presented his toy.

"I can't take your toy, kid, but I absolutely love that you want me to have it," she said gently giving him and the dinosaur a big squeeze.

"Yours," he insisted, pushing the plush into her hand. "Mommy said presents are extra special so Rex is extra special."

She gave a watery laugh and with tentative fingers took the dinosaur from his grasp, squeezing it to her chest. "It's the best gift I've ever gotten."

He gave a toothy smile, throwing a thumbs up to his mother who a-okayed him with a pleased smile of her own.

"Well," August said and pulled his pant leg down and stood, clasping Emma's shoulder in passing as he walked toward the exit. "Henry, wanna go try that lasagna with me?"

Henry tilted his head up at August, eyeing his outstretched hand. After a long moment, he took it and allowed the man to lead them out of the parlour before asking, "do you have a Morph?"

Emma waited until August and Henry had left the room to stand and shove her hand into her back pocket, the other still holding onto Rex as she grinned shyly at the brunette by the entranceway. "Hi."

"Hey," Regina said throatily before clearing her throat and motioning for Emma to come with a tilt of her head. "Mr. Booth has quite the personality. He tells me he has many stories to share about you."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Most likely lies."

"Oh, I highly doubt that," Regina teased. "You hacked into your school's database?"

"Once," she reasoned. Under Regina's scrutiny, she sighed. "Okay, maybe twice, but I was caught only once."

"Only," Regina said wryly.

"Henry thinks August is a cyborg," the blonde admitted with a laugh.

Regina's lips parted in an embarrassed 'oh' as she flushed furiously. "I'm so sorry. I'll have a talk with him."

"Don't bother," Emma consoled with a hand on the brunette's arm. "August confirmed it."

Regina raised a curious eyebrow.

"August has an overactive imagination. He says he's writing a book," Emma explained.

"Well, I believe Henry and Mr. Booth will get along famously then," Regina conceded. "But I will still be having that talk with my son."

They lingered in the threshold of the room, and Emma couldn't help but wonder just how much Regina had heard of her and August's conversation. His words resonated in her mind to make it the right time, but like most things, it was easier said than done. Instead, she took solace in the fact that Regina outstretched her hand which Emma took graciously, their fingers intertwined as Regina led them out of the room.

When Emma had received her first letter from Regina Mills, August had forgotten that he had signed up then Private Swan for the pen-pal program. He had watched Emma rise in her division, and for once he saw her follow orders, but he could see that that was all she had left: order in a world of chaos. They were close while they lived together, but he had aged out of the system and regrettably left Emma to fend for herself at the Johnson's where he had later learned she had run away from and was caught trying to hawk some stolen watches, and though it was a dark moment for the blonde, August knew a blessing in disguise when he saw one.

With Emma under his command, he could look out for her though she didn't need it. She was a fighter and could take care of herself. Physically that is. One time she had gotten into a fight at their old high school because the head cheerleader had said her parents gave her up because she was 'trailer trash.' August had ran when he heard the commotion and joined the circle of students chanting and cheering. He would have intervened, but Emma had it covered if the girl's broken nose was anything to go by. She was sent to a Catholic all-girls school after that where she was kicked out for swearing too much and un-Christian-like behaviour months later.

But when it came to taking care of herself emotionally, Emma was in trouble, which was why he signed her up for the program. He knew Emma, whether she'd admit it or not, and he knew she'd never take the initiative herself. Cabin fever could break even the best of soldiers, and adding Emma's internalized hostility toward the world into the mix was a recipe for disaster. So he took it upon himself, as any good big brother would do, to ground her into reality a little. He had no clue that penning Emma's name onto the sign up sheet would result in him sitting in Emma's pen pal's mansion, stuffed with the best lasagna he had ever had as he watched his friend and the woman she had developed feelings for interact as if they had met each other years before Emma even thought about joining the army.

It seemed his observation was shared by many in the room, particularly the brunette waitress whom he had learned was named Ruby. They had shared a knowing glance when Emma suddenly stopped her conversation with Storybrooke's Sheriff and paused to listen for something the same time Regina stood with a narrowed gaze. Regina had called out her son's name before exiting the room hastily, but Emma remained keen on listening, nodding in relief when Regina's voice had flitted back to the family room after she had found Henry.

The kid was cute, and Emma wasn't kidding when she said Regina was gorgeous, but meeting the friends she had made - a quiet school teacher who had left abnormally quickly, a therapist and his best friend, Pongo, and Graham, Storybrooke's Sheriff who was currently trying to proposition Emma into returning to Storybrooke to take up the vacant deputy position. He was fairly certain Emma didn't need the excuse of a job to come back to Maine, but if it helped her sleep better at night, he was happy that she was finally moving forward.

"We've got dental," Graham enticed further to an amused Emma.

She chuckled and shook her head in feigned hesitance. It was all a ruse. Emma would take the job as soon as she was discharged, but August knew she didn't like making commitments of that proportion in advance. Before Emma could respectfully decline, for the time being August hoped, an all-too happy Henry ran past the entrance of the family room, chocolate smeared all over his chipmunk cheeks, button down shirt, and mischievous grin. Not too long after that, Regina's heels clicked on the hardwood at a quick pace as she raced to catch up with her son. Despite her speed, August caught the glare set in her eyes as she hurried to catch up to Henry who had no doubt been stuffing his face with something he ought not to have stuffed his face with.

Sending a silent blessing to the kid that his mom would take it easy on him, August nudged Emma with his good foot and nodded at the Sheriff. "Sounds like a sweet deal, Swan. Wouldn't be terrible if you stayed."

"I second that," Ruby said from across the room, lifting her beer to toast August. He responded in kind and made a mental note to get the details out of her that he knew she would have.

"Maybe," Emma shrugged coyly, setting her empty plate of lasagna down on the side table beside her. "But me and August were still supposed to go to Thailand."

"That can wait," August suggested. "Don't wanna be a third wheel with me and Isra, do you, Em?"

Pongo barked loudly, sprinting to the front door, and the therapist excused himself to take his companion for a walk at the same time Henry screamed into a fit of giggles.

"Emma!" Regina's voice called to her from somewhere on the main floor. "Can you come to the laundry room, please?"

Wordlessly Emma stood, excusing herself from the room just as Tina stepped in with her own refreshed glass of red wine. "What's up?" She asked as Emma stepped passed the threshold.

"Regina needs me for something."

"Right, of course." August noticed the smirk on the curly-haired blonde's face and grinned. Evidently this town wasn't blind to what was going on in the mayoral mansion. He caught the daycare teacher's eye and silently raised his beer in acknowledgment. She dipped her head and tipped her own glass in greeting as she moved into the room and sat beside Ruby on the ledge of the fireplace. "So what do you know?" Tina wasted no time in questioning August.

"Tit for tat?" August asked, adjusting himself on the single armchair to better face the two women.

Graham snorted and shook his head. "If Regina hears you lot talking, especially in her own home-"

"Oh please, Sheriff," Ruby scoffed. "If you really wanted a deputy that badly you could have hired me."

"She's actually experienced, Ruby," Graham argued.

"Right," the waitress drawled dismissing his claim. She turned back to August and repeated Tina's question. "So what do you know?"

"I've got over five years of knowledge about Emma and three from when they first started writing. I got them together," he added with smug pride.

"I had no idea Regina was even writing to someone," Tina added. "Henry had talked about his 'special friend' before, but I thought she was an imaginary friend that the Mayor encouraged."

"Emma sort of just popped up out of nowhere," Graham said. "She's been good for Regina though, and the boy."

"I know," August agreed quietly. "And vice versa."

"You're staying the weekend, right?" Ruby inquired, leaning forward in her seat when she heard movement coming from presumably the laundry room.

Graham shook his head incorrigibly at the brunette while August chuckled. "I'm leaving tonight."

"You know, my family owns a B&B, right?"

"Ms. Lucas if I didn't know any better I'd say you were positively smitten with Mr. Booth," Regina said as she stalked into the room with a pouting and clean Henry on her hip and Emma trailing closely behind her.

Ruby's ears reddened at Regina's assumption, and August pressed his chin into his chest to stifle his laughter. Regina was bold, and she clearly knew what was going on around her and never failed to call bullshit. Ruby ducked her head like a dog with her tail between her legs and refrained from sucking her teeth at the interruption.

"All better?" Graham asked as the trio sat on the couch next to him, Emma and Regina sitting shoulder to shoulder with a freshly scolded Henry sitting studiously in his mother's lap.

"Someone was sneaking sweets again," Regina said pointedly to her son who crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, angry that his mother had ruined his fun.

"He wouldn't let Regina wash or change him," Emma explained poking at Henry's fresh polo.

He tried to squirm out of Regina's lap and into Emma's, but Regina kept him firmly in her grasp, his punishment clearly being that he had some time out and thinking about his actions to do.

"You two make quite the team," Tina said casually. It was a comment August had expected, if not from Tina than himself or Ruby, but it was Regina's glazed eyes, worried lip, and furrowed brow that had August wondering. He had hopefully gotten through to Emma getting her head out of her ass, but talking sense into the blonde was always a toss up. He had no idea that Regina may also pose the same if not more difficult problem.

Emma's first real birthday party had lasted late into the night. Henry had sufficiently suffered his time out and wore himself out with putting on a dance show for everyone, going so far as to entice Ms. Bell to show everyone the song and dance she had taught him at school the day before. By the time Henry had knocked out for bed (with Rex in tow since Emma had graciously allowed him a sleepover with the toddler), all the guests had left and a car arrived for August. The two friends walked down the path of the mayoral mansion, Emma pushing his empty wheelchair as August held a take out container of a few slices of Regina's lasagna and red velvet cake.

"Thanks again for coming," Emma spoke softly, nudging his shoulder as they walked. "Are you sure you don't want to stay the weekend?"

"I'll be fine. I have to feed my cat and all." August helped Emma fold up the chair and place it into the trunk of the car.

"It's a long drive," Emma noted.

"It's your last weekend here, Em," he reminded. "Enjoy it."

"We didn't get to hang out a lot, did we?" She asked guiltily.

"Hey," he rapped her chin with his knuckles. "Don't sweat it. Next time you bring Regina and Henry to my neck of the woods."

Emma smirked at his implication, but she nodded. "Okay."

They lingered by the open passenger door, and Emma could feel an array of emotions fighting one another to dominate the blonde's features. She was indescribably happy yet the sorrow filling her seemed to hit back with a harder punch. She caught August's eye, and he held it for a second before motioning his head to himself and opened his arms with an expectant grin. Emma rolled her eyes, shimmying from foot to foot for a second before relenting and stepping into his embrace.

He hugged her tightly, his scruff scraping her temple as she buried her face into his chest. "Take care of yourself," he ordered gently, placing a kiss to her temple.

Emma nodded and pulled back, her eyes watery but with a blink she was immediately composed save for a trickle of moisture lining just under her eye. "You too."

He slid into the car, and Emma helped to close it shut. She waited as August rolled down the window and stuck his head out the window. "Oh, my birthday gift to you is free babysitting whenever you and Regina want to..." He waggled his eyebrows with a smirk.

Emma snorted and crossed her arms. "Yeah, Regina doesn't have the best track record with babysitters."

"Kid thinks I'm a cyborg," August argued. "You really think he's gonna sneak candy with me around?"

Emma laughed and patted the top of the cab. "Can't argue with that one."

He smiled earnestly and leaned back into the seat. "Think about what I said."

The taxi drove off leaving Emma to stand on the sidewalk, holding herself with a content smile on her face. "Can't argue with that one either," she muttered to herself before turning and walking back up the path.

By the time she entered the mansion and locked the door behind her, the sound of the dishwasher was already running, and she could only assume Regina had already finished up the rest of the cleaning. She took one final sweep of the main floor, shutting off each light as she deemed it clear and confirmed her suspicion that Regina had tidied up the few plates and cups that still littered the tables. The hallway light was the last to go as Emma ascended the stairs, reaching the top just as Regina was peaking her head into Henry's room.

Her palms sweat as she observed Regina check in on her son, and the voice in her head that had started out as August's but slowly faded to her own screamed at her that for once in her goddamn life to do something good, something just for her. The wall held her up for support as she tried to gather the nerve to approach Regina, but before she could even formulate another thought, Regina deemed her inspection satisfactory and closed Henry's door gently behind her.

She smiled when she noticed Emma and raised a curious eyebrow, silently questioning what was running through Emma's head, but the blonde held out her hand, and Regina latched onto it because it was something they had grown so familiar with in the past week alone that the natural tendency to be close was just as innate in Regina as it was in Emma.

Neither woman questioned when they made their way into Regina's room, their go-to late-night talking spot when they managed to remember to remove themselves from the couch before falling asleep. Emma claimed Regina's bed was the prime location if the brunette didn't want to lose any of those pillows both women were so fond of. They navigated their way into the room in the dark, Regina dropping their hands in favour of retreating to the bathroom as Emma moved to the corner where her sleep clothes lay folded on the chaise.

She changed quickly into a tank and shorts, and the sound of a toilet flushing and the faucet turned on was her cue that she could knock on the door and enter the master bathroom where they both brushed their teeth.

"Have I thanked you yet?" Emma asked shoving her brush in her mouth.

Regina spat and rinsed her mouth, catching Emma's eye in the mirror with a wry grin. "Perhaps once or twice."

The blonde laughed and finished brushing, placing her toothbrush on the counter and turning to Regina.

"You had fun?" Regina asked uncertainly, her palm coming over Emma's on the counter.

"It was the best birthday party I ever had," she answered honestly, linking their fingers before turning and leading them out of the washroom.

"Perhaps we can top it next year."

"About that..." Emma drawled, turning down the covers to what had become her side of the bed.

"You'll be back," Regina insisted, pausing her own actions to stare expectantly at Emma as if daring her to contradict Regina's words.

"I know," the blonde smirked, and despite Regina's acquiescent nod, her hands remained tensed as she focused on turning down the comforter and sitting on the bed to lotion for the night. The faint smell of Regina's lavender cream wafted over to Emma as Regina moved her lotioned hands over her bare legs one limb at a time. It was a habitual nightly routine Regina did before bed, and it wasn't the first time Emma noticed how sensual Regina looked, her palm massaging a firm calf, fingers rubbing deep along her elbow.

She swallowed hard and crawled width-wise along the bed, falling onto her stomach and elbows beside Regina who raised a questioning eyebrow before moving those lithe fingers to her neck to moisturize there.

"You smell good," the blonde commented lamely but took a deep inhale anyway.

It was Regina's turn to smirk as she dotted Emma's nose with a thin line of lotion before putting away the case. "Thank you, dear." When she turned back from the side drawer, a long, golden wrapped, rectangular box was in her hand and a shy smile on her face. "Happy early birthday."

Emma moved onto her side facing Regina with surprised eyes. She should have known Regina would spring for a gift on top of throwing her a birthday party, but the gesture never ceased to amaze the soldier. This woman before her was supposedly the scariest woman in Storybrooke, and maybe she was but Emma could understand why. She knew Regina's story and knew how cautious Regina was, and despite the fact that closing herself off to the masses led to a frosty disposition, it allowed Regina to give herself fully to those she truly cared about, and right now the only people on that list were herself and Henry, and that was pretty freaking mind blowing. "Regina..." Emma said softly, half scold, half amazement.

"It's for your birthday, I'm allowed."

"You can only use that card so many times."

Rolling her eyes, Regina placed the box in front of Emma and urged her to open it with imploring eyes. The blonde adjusted herself on her side to balance more effectively as she slipped a nail under the tape of the wrapping. She repeated the move until she was able to remove the wrapping entirely, revealing the box beneath it. Emma opened it carefully, holding in the small intake of breath when she found a long silver chain with a circle pendant at its end. She held it up to the glow of the bedside lamp, the circle swinging back and forth as the silver caught the light.

"You wrote how you saw one like that when you were sixteen," Regina explained. "I don't know if you still wanted it or-"

"Jesus, Regina," the blonde said breathless, staring past the necklace now to the brunette whose usually chocolate eyes glittered honey. "I really can't accept this."

The brunette looked crestfallen for half a second before her face turned neutral. "I can return it if you don't like it."

"No." Emma sat up, fingering the chain between her thumb and forefinger. "No, I love it."

"Oh," Regina said confusedly, but her mask was gone in place of a pleased smile.

"You've given me so much, I don't even know where to begin with that list," Emma sighed, shaking her head at herself.

"You don't have to give me anything, Emma," Regina consoled, her fingertips lifting up Emma's chin to make eye contact.

"But I want to," the blonde groaned exasperated. "I want to take you out, and show you and Henry Boston or wherever you guys want to go, and I want to give you flowers on your birthday, and I want to see your face light up on Christmas morning, and-" She clasped her hand over her mouth as her brain finally caught up with her tongue, Regina's paralyzed stare having the same numbing effect as her brain.

She fell back on the bed, her arm coming over her eyes while her hand, still clutching the necklace, muffled her voice. "Oh dear god, this was a better plan half an hour ago."

The sound of silence filled the room as Emma continued to berate herself. She certainly took the bull by the horns on this one, but she had a feeling this wasn't exactly what August meant about making it the right time. Regina hadn't said a word. Hell, Regina hadn't even moved from her position. Jesus, she shouldn't have said a thing. At least not now. Not when she still had to face a week with Regina. Oh god, was she reading this entire situation wrong? Maybe she could leave for Boston and catch up with August in the morning. But Henry. The B&B always had open rooms, didn't they?

She bit her lip to keep from saying anything further when familiar fingers tugged her arm away from her eyes and her hand away from her mouth. She kept her eyes closed, holding off on seeing the horrified look of disgust on Regina's face.

A soft palm cupped her cheek, and a warm, minty breath hit her face. "Emma," Regina said softly. And there was the pity, Emma was sure of it.

It took a light tap for Emma to open her eyes to see Regina nearly nose-to-nose with the blonde embarrassingly sprawled out on the width of her bed. The sight up close made Emma gasp out loud before she could stop it. It amazed her how beautiful Regina was that sometimes it hurt just to look at her because no real person could actually look like a Greek goddess. As she stared up into deep honey eyes, for the briefest of seconds she felt as if she was right, she wasn't misreading things, the time was right.

"Hi," Emma said quietly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Hey." Regina's smile seemed to ease Emma some as her thumb was rubbing soothing circles on Emma's cheek, so gently that it had the power to lull the blonde into a deep sleep if she let it, but she leaned into her touch, their breaths mingling at their closeness.

"You want to do all that?" Regina broke the silence and the inflection in her tone sounded a lot like wonder, but why would someone like Regina have a hard time believing that they deserve something like that?

Emma nodded bashfully, eyes still wide and cautious. "A lot more than that," she admitted. Regina bit her lip, and Emma sat up on her elbows, moving slowly to keep Regina's hand where it was on her cheek because if Regina was about to throw her out on her ass, Emma was willing to move as slowly as she could just to keep her there for as long as possible. "But the only thing I have to give you is me."

The blonde winced at that and fell back on the bed harshly. "Christ, that sounded less corny in my head," she muttered to herself.

She shut her eyes again and missed Regina's suppressed chuckle, but with a few coy fingers dancing along her jaw, Emma opened her eyes to see Regina with a shoulder raised in question, her head tilted to the side as she bit her lip again in contemplation. Finally Regina spoke, and she swore she would ingrain the words on a tag and wear it forever if only to have proof that they were said.

"What if that's all I want from you?"

Emma's heart thudded in her chest, and though Regina hadn't slammed back into the bed as Emma had done, the hesitation in her eyes mimicked that of Emma's. "What?"

"Are you really going to make me repeat it?" Regina snapped, but she didn't move her hand away and, in fact, leaned onto an elbow so that she was parallel with Emma.

"A little bit," the blonde grinned cheekily.

Regina glared but the heat rising to her cheeks was evident even in the dim light. "I..." Regina began, biting the inside of her cheek before continuing. "I enjoy your presence in my life a lot more than friendship permits, and I can see myself getting behind all that you've suggested."

"Yeah?" Emma grinned wider now, pushing up on her elbows until they were all but sharing the same breath.

"Yes."

"That's awesome." Regina laughed, her eyes shining with pure unadulterated happiness, and all Emma could do was laugh along with her, taking a mental picture of Regina to keep her encased in her memory for the lonely, quiet days her future held.

Her breath stopped short when Regina tilted her head and moved a fraction of an inch, their lips touching whisper soft. Emma gasped at the shock and pulled back surprised and breathless. "What are you doing?"

"Making the time right?" Emma's smile lit her face as it tore across her cheeks. The brief uncertainty in Regina's eyes when Emma had pulled back was gone as soon as Emma let out a breathless laugh and joined their lips, tentative and soft yet sure and firm. The attraction simmering between them had boiled over, and one touch of her lips and against Regina's had Emma nearly suffocating from the heat.

Her hand reached up to pull Regina closer by the back of the neck, the necklace still dangling from her fingertips as the pendant swung to and fro, bouncing softly against Regina's collarbone.

Regina parted her lips, either in wonderment or invitation or maybe some combination of both, but when she did, Emma couldn't resist flicking a plump lip with the tip of her tongue, feeling the smile stretch across Regina's face as Emma retreated with a coy smile of her own. Regina broke the kiss with a soft promise on pink lips as she bowed her head, letting it rest against the blonde's forehead as she breathed deeply for the air that seemed to evaporate from their combined heat.

"I've never done anything like this before," Regina confessed quietly, her thumb on Emma's cheek never ceasing its soothing stroking and her free hand playing with the hem of Emma's sleeping shirt.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes," she answered with a nod.

Emma sat up fully but kept her proximity to Regina so much so that the brunette was a shimmy of her hips away from sitting in the blonde's lap. Regina's gaze was soft yet intense, warm and inviting yet cautious and fearful, and Emma couldn't believe this beautiful paradox of a woman reciprocated her feelings. With deft fingers, she unlocked the chain of the necklace and weaved it around Regina's slender neck.

"What are you doing?" Regina asked, removing her hand from Emma's cheek to finger the pendant before it disappeared beneath her nightgown.

"It's mine to do what I want with, and I want to give it to you," the blonde reasoned, furrowing her brow when she realized closing the clasp proved more difficult than opening it.

Regina rolled her eyes but remained still as Emma grinned at her triumph, letting her fingers trail down the tanned neck until it met up perfectly manicured fingers.

"You'll come back for this?" Regina asked hopefully.

Emma chuckled and let the necklace go, shaking her head as wayward wisps of blonde hair rubbed against Regina's own locks. "I'll come back for you."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

After that first kiss, it was difficult for either woman to go to bed that night without interrupting their conversation to place the softest brush against the other's lips or trail their bottom lip against smooth knuckles just because they finally could. Emma couldn't believe she had denied herself this woman for as long as she did, and she vowed never again as their kiss deepened with an exploration of hands and tongue. Soon night turned into morning, and though they rarely awoke like those teenage romantic comedies, the air was still filled with the newly accepted intimacy and affection.

What surprised Emma the most was how little things changed between she and Regina. Their smiles had always been genuine, their touches always sincere, and the only added bonus was that when Henry would run in and out of the rooms, scampering between the living room and his playroom, they could finally indulge in the physical desire that had been plaguing them for weeks. Like clockwork, both women would turn their head toward the other less than a second after Henry would cross the threshold and as soon as the toddler was out of the room, the most knowing of smirks would be shared before they leaned their heads in, their lips seeking comfort with one another as their fingers intertwined expertly.

Every kiss with Regina seemed to light Emma on fire and cool her down all at once. Bittersweet was the only way she could describe it. Regina was like a sudden rainfall on a hot, sunny day – unexpected and refreshing and beautiful and maddening, and Emma had no problem kicking off her shoes and running carelessly through the puddles as the sun burned hotly against her back because every touch and every smile and every laugh from Regina was laced with the reminder that Emma was closer to leaving. Emma knew all good things didn't last, but this good thing, having Regina and Henry around, they were something she wasn't ready to let go, and if all she had was this one moment in the summer shower before the thunderstorm hit, then she was willing to stand outside and catch a cold if she had to.

It seemed Regina felt the same because for that week she had taken half-days and rescheduled all meetings that could afford to wait to be moved to the next. Regina and Emma would have lunch together, either at the mansion or at one of the quaint little bistros or cafés in town, and it pleased Emma whenever their foot would intentionally-accidentally brush the other, and neither kept it a secret when their palms would habitually rest over one another on top of the table.

They would pick up Henry afterwards and go to the park, visit an indoor playground, or have a movie night in, though the first day picking him up at daycare had delayed their plans some. The children had crowded around Emma to ask if she could fly or have special powers which gave both women pause, but understanding flooded their face when they realized that Henry had apparently told them she was a superhero. The endearment caused a pang in her chest, and she gave Regina a puppy dog look that rivalled Henry's own well-practiced pout. With a nod from Regina, they stayed as Emma entertained the kids with stories of her job, teaching them about safety and care, and of course she had to play with them because Emma herself acted like a child at times. Regina stayed against the wall, alternating between laughing at Emma who had crawled into the miniature home in the yard and struggled to get out and conversing quite happily with Ms. Bell.

It was like that every day for Emma's last week with the trio spending as much time together as possible, and Emma saying her goodbyes to the people who had grown to become her friends in her time there. Ruby and Tina had managed to steal Emma away for an hour one evening to buy her a goodbye drink at The Rabbit Hole but released her, much to Regina and Emma's delight, when the blonde kept eyeing her watch for the time. Every night she and Regina would fall into bed, talking until the morning light because sleeping seemed insignificant as time slipped through their fingers. The only witness to their time together was the stars as they shone their light through the parted curtains of Regina's window. During the night, nothing could touch them. Secure in their little bubble, there were no meetings to prepare for, no desert to be patrolled, just Regina and Emma, lying under the sky that joined the earth as one.

Within the blink of an eye it was Thursday, and Emma had a 3 AM flight the following day to head back to Fort Benning, and she wasn't ready to leave Storybrooke just yet.

The reality of the situation hit the blonde hard when she woke up that morning with Regina sleeping soundly on her side facing Emma, her hand still in the middle where she had fallen asleep drawing circles on Emma's palm. Their nightly conversations drifted to a close at the 4 AM mark when, despite her better efforts, Regina's eyes started to flutter shut yet she continued to insist she was awake. Like Regina, Emma didn't want the night to end, but watching Regina as she slept grew to be a favourite past time of the younger woman's, so Emma used her free hand to tuck errant strands of brown hair behind Regina's ear and rub soothing circles just under the lobe.

Awake, Regina was flawless, but asleep, Regina was something out of a fairy tale – a sleeping beauty she yearned to wake yet wanted to keep sleeping if only to admire her raw beauty for a moment longer. Emma took the small amount of time allotted to her to sear the brunette's image into her brain. Carefully, she shifted closer, removing the distance habitually set between them and brought her hand up to trail feather light touches down Regina's temple, tracing the scar along her lip, feeling the curve as her collarbone dipped, and watching the goosebumps rise on the flesh of her arm. Every bump, every scar, every soft patch of smooth skin, every shade of toned flesh Emma imprinted onto the back of her retina until the only thing her mind knew was Regina.

The brunette's faltered breathing signalled her consciousness, and Emma eased her to the land of the living with a few well-placed teasing kisses, her nose nuzzling against the older woman's cheek as her lips caressed the corner of her mouth. A breathy laugh hit her cheeks, and Regina's hand instinctively tightened around Emma's in the middle as her eyes fluttered open.

"Hi," the blonde whispered, pulling back so they lay face to face on the pillow.

"Hi," Regina responded in kind, chocolate eyes glowing a bright honey before a watery sadness etched into them so slowly it was as if time had paused. "It's your last day."

"I know," Emma said apologetically as if she had control over such matters. "But I don't want to talk about that right now. It's just like any other day."

Regina scoffed dryly though before Regina's token pessimism could take hold, Emma brushed her lips against the brunette's, distracting her from her thoughts. "Good morning," she said pointedly.

Regina rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked upwards in contentment of the moment. "Good morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Surprisingly so. You may be just as comfortable as my pillows."

"Only just."

"Well the goose-down does form to my body," the brunette reasoned.

"I'm sure I could too," Emma grinned saucily, winking for emphasis.

Regina barked out a laugh and shook her head, though the red staining her cheeks as she flushed hotly was evident that the image the blonde gave was playing through her mind in vivid detail. She sat up, shifting her legs out of bed to sit on the edge, her back to Emma as she rolled a bare shoulder from her fallen nightgown strap and glanced coyly behind her. "Perhaps we could find out when you return."

Emma's eyes widened as she choked on her words, managing only to get out a high-pitched "what?"

"Consider it incentive," Regina provided easily and walked to the bathroom with a sway of her hips.

With a grin, Emma sat up and rolled out of bed, hastily making the bed. "You get the kid and I'll make breakfast."

Emma had insisted they go about their day as normally as they would have any other week, but it seemed that with each passing minute, she was acutely aware that she was one minute closer to having to leave for the airport. She did her morning run as per usual, though she took the extra long route that brought her in and around town, waving to each familiar face that passed her as they greeted the day. She even stopped by the diner, picking up twin coffees and a bear claw, a treat she had become addicted to in her weeks in Storybrooke. She tried to pay for it, but Ruby and her grandmother basically kicked her out of the diner, threatening that would be her last bear claw if she didn't get her butt back home. The usual struggle of getting Henry dressed for the morning was heard as soon as she retreated back to the mansion and closed the door behind her, placing the tray of coffees and a little note to Regina on the kitchen island before heading up to shower in Henry's washroom.

After the quick shower, Emma met both brunettes in the hallway where Henry all but jumped on her, yanking on her arms until she swung him onto her back, using one arm to keep him steady while the other was placed on Regina's lower back as she guided the older woman down the stairs. Though Emma had promised to be chef for the morning, once Emma had settled Henry onto the bar stool, the women set about making a batter for waffles and berries. The blonde grinned when Regina stopped her whisking when she noticed the coffee on the table, grinning at the Good morning beautiful and smiley faced note stuck to the sleeve and leaned over the corner where Emma was slicing up strawberries to kiss her swiftly on the cheeks in thanks.

It was the most domestic Emma had ever felt, sitting around the table having breakfast, her hand finding Regina's every so often in simple reassurance that her presence was there, Henry going on about his dream that seemed to morph into a recap of what had happened on House of Mouse. The trio had been in the department store earlier that week, and upon arriving at the Disney store, Emma had bought Henry the complete series of the TV show. It had been his choice of show for the nights in since the boy was completely enamoured by all his favourite Disney characters mingling under one roof.

But once the dishes were washed and Emma retreated up to her room to grab a sweater for a final day out to the stables, the sight of her packed duffel and rucksack laying on the foot of the bed was enough to break the bubble she built around herself that morning. Swallowing the tightness in her throat that hindered her breathing, she shut the door and sat down with a heavy sigh, taking inventory of the room she had called her own for nearly a month. Granted, lately she had become quite familiar with Regina's bedroom, but here inside the mansion's guest room, Emma began feeling the first remnants of a home.

In the early days of her stay, Regina would wake Emma up from nightmares and the two would sit on her bed, backs to the head board lying side by side, or retreat to the kitchen for tea, or in Emma's case, hot chocolate with cinnamon, and talk about it until dawn.

Some days Henry would help Emma work out, the boy used as a weight or sitting on her bed and counting, usually inconsistently, and sometimes in Spanish as his mother had been teaching him, as she went through her sets.

The first time Regina did Emma's laundry, Emma had found that her clothes were placed in the room's dresser and closet, her duffel and rucksack folded neatly on the top shelf. The intrusion bothered her for about half a second, but her clothes had never smelled that good or felt that soft before, and the care Regina had given them was more than any of the foster parents she had stayed with combined. Emma had kept her clothes in the dressers ever since.

That is until now, with her bags repacked and more filled than they were before arriving. A new sweater was added to her collection, red with grey print emblazoned on the front proclaiming it as Property of Storybrooke Knights, ironically the town's high school's mascot – no wonder Henry had such a fixation. It was Regina's when she went to school, and though Emma had every intention of stealing it as a token of her time (and just because it smelled like Regina), when she found it already folded and packed with her belongings, she figured her desires weren't as inconspicuous as she thought.

She lifted her rucksack and rifled through it, smiling fondly at the letters and pictures she guarded with her life, the beginning of it all, really. The newer photographs were an addition to her bag that she was excited to bring back with her. No longer would her walls around her cot be bare save for a schedule or itinerary of upcoming events. She now had a collection of pictures, her friends immortalized on film to look after her on those nights she'd be away from them.

The few pictures she already possessed of herself, August, and Neal were among the top of the small stack, but as she flipped those to the back, her eyes clouded with moisture as the movie reel of her memory played snippets of each still.

Regina had snuck a picture of Emma and Henry one rainy April day, the third day Emma had been in Storybrooke where Regina had taken the rest of the week off. Emma was holding an umbrella and guiding Henry by the hand down the mayoral pathway, the boy decked out in a blue rain coat, red rain hat, and yellow rain boots, resembling a humanoid version of Paddington Bear. Neither Emma nor Henry were aware of the shot. Henry had been too distracted by the puddles underneath his feet, and Emma had been careful to make sure he was properly shielded from the light shower. Regina had been on the porch when she quickly grabbed her camera to capture the moment.

The first few were of her and Henry with the boy usually stationed on her lap, hugging her around the neck, or one where he was sitting high atop her shoulders. Regina nearly had a heart attack at that one, but when both Emma and Henry promised to be extra careful, Regina relented, allowing their fun. It was their little secret that one time Emma miscalculated the height of the doorway and Henry accidentally bumped his head against the frame.

It started with the picture from Henry's birthday party where Regina began making appearances in the photographs. Emma had taken quite a few pictures with the birthday boy in their matching armour, though Regina had kept those. The older woman, however, made doubles of this particular photo where after Emma had made Regina her own crown, the trio had got their picture taken by the base of the stairs. Henry was on Regina's hip, a toothy grin on his face as he reached to wrap an arm around Emma who had her sword swung across her shoulders. Despite the paper crown and the ribbon trailing down her collar bone, Regina looked every bit the Queen she was teased to be.

Every picture held a story, a memory Emma promised to keep with her forever. Some pictures were as recent as her own birthday party where she was sitting on the couch with Ruby and Tina, or the more comical image of the entire group of guests, apparently slanted and dim save for a red glow around them as they were positioned around the dining room table, grinning at Henry behind the camera who insisted he wanted to try. Regina wasn't surprised to find that Henry had kept his thumb on the lens when she was scrolling through the Canon's library later that night.

Finally she got to the last picture where her heart clenched in her chest. It was just Emma and Regina, taken two days after her party when they were going through the digital camera's library and Regina had noticed they hadn't had one of them alone together.

"Let's fix that," the blond had said before grabbing the Canon and holding it above their heads. Regina had smirked at the gesture but pressed into Emma's side all the same, her head nestled just above Emma's shoulder and settled into the crook of the blonde's neck, both women sporting matching grins.

Regina made doubles of that picture too.

It killed Emma to leave all this behind. It was ironic, really, when she thought about everything that got her to this point. Without being orphaned, she'd never go into foster care; she'd never get treated differently by the other kids who saw her holey shoes and too-large shirts as a sign of her poverty. She'd never have a stubborn attitude or a problem with authority and a knack for constantly getting into trouble with the cops until one day it mattered. Without enlisting, Emma would never in a million years had found Regina and Henry, and now all she wanted to do was turn her back on the institution that gave her a second chance in more ways than one. She could stick it out for a few more years, she decided. Only five more to go before she was released completely. Maybe after her next tour she could inquire about the National Guard.

She snapped her head up when she heard Henry screaming and crying, and without further thought, Emma stashed her pictures back in her rucksack and sprinted out the door. Taking the stairs two at a time, she followed his crying to the playroom where she was ready to sooth any boo-boo or scare away any monsters that may have frightened the child, but all she found was Regina, kneeling by the entrance of his pop-up tent with a grimace on her face.

"Sweetie, please don't cry," Regina soothed, raking her nails up and down the polyester as if that alone could sooth the boy within it.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked confused, crouching beside Regina and peaking her head into the mesh window of the tent. She was met with a plush pillow nearly to the face as Henry threw a cushion at it when Emma had tried to look in. "Hey," she scolded instinctively. "You don't throw things, mister."

His body thrashed against the padded floor of his tent, no doubt trying to make as much noise as possible as he continued to wail.

"Why's he crying?" Emma asked again, looking at Regina for the answer this time.

Regina bit her lip and tilted her head apologetically. "I told him he's staying home from daycare today."

"I thought he knew that?" The blonde questioned confused. "Is it arts and crafts day or something?"

"Yes, but that's not the point." Regina leaned closer and placed her palm over Emma's, squeezing affectionately. "I said that you're returning back to work, which is why we'll be going out and later bringing you to the airport."

Emma's lips parted in understanding as she turned back to the tent, Henry's near-scream crying turning into breathless sniffling.

"He doesn't want you to go," Regina provided, though it wasn't necessary as Emma already had a similar frown set on her face. She stopped the blonde with a press of her hand when Emma attempted to lift the flap of the entranceway. "You can't go into his castle unless he allows you to."

Squinting, Emma lifted the flap regardless of the warning but promptly dropped it when a high-pitched scream erupted as soon as the smallest sliver of Henry was revealed. She nodded sheepishly when Regina gave her an I told you so look before moving onto her stomach and crawling to the other entrance where the play tunnel was usually positioned. "Henry?" Emma called out tentatively, knocking at the flap to signal her presence. His sniffles quieted but didn't falter. "Buddy, can I come in?"

"No."

"How come?"

"Don't wanna go to the airport."

"But I want to see you before I go," she reasoned.

"You stay." His tone was firm and insistent.

"I wish I could, Henry." If there was ever any promise she could make to Henry, right now she wished she was able to make that one.

He sniffled once more before peaking his head to the window, his eyes red-rimmed and his nose snotty. "Just say you're sick?" He offered hopefully.

Emma gave a watery laugh as Regina half smiled adoringly half mentally scolded her son for the idea.

"I have to be super duper sick for them to give me a day off."

"Sweetie," Regina encouraged softly, positioned outside her own entrance. She said nothing more, but her voice drawled on in silent communication with her son, and without anything more than simply pushing out at the flaps from inside, the women were granted entrance into his safe haven.

The inside of his tent was a bright red hue from the roof while sunlight trickled in from the mesh window. The tent was only large enough so that both women could get only their heads and arms inside, but once they had settled, Emma could see Henry, huddled into the furthest corner clutching Rex, Sea Turtle, and Rexy Junior to his chest, his cheeks stained with tears and his lip jutting out in a pout.

"Sweetie, come here," Regina enticed, opening up her arms for comfort.

The conflict in Henry's eyes told both women that while he wanted comfort and promises that he'd get what he want, he wanted to make a point and resisted his mother's warmth with a petulant shake of his head.

"But we're going to go ride horses today," Regina propositioned. "We can't do that if you stay in here all day."

"But I don't want Emma to go!" He cried hard, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his face, his mouth opened wide as one long wail came out of him.

"Oh sweetie," Regina frowned and tugged Henry toward her. It didn't take much effort to get the boy to cave and wrap his arms around his mother, wetting her blouse with his tears. "I don't want her to go either," she whispered softly into his hair, rubbing his back and threading her fingers through his hair.

Emma frowned, watching as both brunettes hugged tightly. She managed to shimmy her way further into the tent and nudged Henry with her head. He quieted down and grabbed the front of his polo to wipe his nose on it, coughing hard into his shirt to get control of his breathing. She held up her pinky when he was settled and looked imploringly, not only at Henry but also casting a side eye to his mother. "I promise you I will be back, and we will have even more fun."

He eyed her pinky warily. "When?"

Emma gave a tight-lipped smile. "I don't know that yet, but as soon as I get to go home again I'm coming right back here."

"Tomorrow?" He asked hopefully.

She laughed sadly, and even Regina gave her son an extra tight squeeze. "Not tomorrow, honey," Regina said.

"Day after that?"

Emma shook her head. "Not anytime soon, kid. But you know what?" He lifted his head an inch from Regina's chest to indicate he was listening. "We can write to each other again. I missed getting pictures from you. Did you like drawing for me?"

He nodded softly, wiping at his nose again and allowing Regina to dry his cheeks with her thumb.

"You can help Mommy write to Emma," Regina added. "Remember we send her gifts that you pick out?"

He nodded again, more bounce to his approval.

"Can you come out now or are we going to have a camp out here for the day?" Emma questioned lightly.

Henry tilted his head, clearly thinking the thought of a camp out was just as enticing as visiting the ponies, but his love for the animals overrode his desire to play camping for he nodded again. "We go ride the horses now?"

Regina pressed a kiss to his head. "Yes, we'll go see them now."

"Well," Emma drawled with a shrug. "Not until I get my hug first."

She didn't have to wait long for Henry to stand and launch himself at Emma, his arms wrapping around her head as he hugged her fiercely. Emma wasn't usually a hugger, not until she had come to Storybrooke where the need to blow raspberries against Henry's neck or the desire to wrap an arm around Regina's waist was so strong she found herself doing so instinctively. As she hugged the little boy, the one she had watched grow up through letters and drawings, she put all of herself in that moment because who knew how big the kid would get before the next time she saw him.

The day flew by too quickly for Emma to even comprehend. One minute, Regina was enticing her to get on a horse two times the size of her bug (probably faster too, Regina had joked). It took a well-placed kiss and a look that promised more for Emma to pull herself up on the stirrups, easing her beating heart and making a mental note that animals could smell fear and to calm down. Tanks were one thing, they had a driver and didn't really go faster than ten miles an hour, but horses, they had a mind of their own and could buck you off for thirty feet and kick you in the jaw to boot. Regina laughed softly at the conflict behind Emma's eyes as she clutched the rein tightly. Regina and Henry were nestled on top of their own stallion that looked twice as fierce as her own. Mother and son were adorable in their matching helmets and jodhpurs that Emma wished they had taken the camera with them so she could keep the image with her. It was almost as memorable as when she nearly took a branch to the forehead because she had been too distracted with Regina singing a Spanish lullaby with Henry. She had received quite the scolding from Regina for being so careless, but it was worth it in her opinion.

By the time they returned for a late lunch, Henry had tired himself out from the day's activities yet fought nap time regardless. It seemed he too didn't want to waste a minute sleeping when he could be having fun with Emma, but when the two women sat on the couch for a moment, Henry nestled in between them, he was out like a light. Emma had carried him up to his room, tucking Rex under his arm before pressing a kiss to his forehead and departing to find Regina sitting on the back patio, a wine glass between her fingers as her feet scraped along the hardwood where she rocked from the swinging chair.

"Hi," Emma greeted, taking the seat next to her and automatically linking their fingers together.

"Hello," Regina greeted softly, staring out at her garden in contemplation.

"What are you thinking about?"

Regina rolled a non-committal shoulder and sighed. "Tomorrow will be very unusual."

"I know," the blonde agreed, removing her hand from Regina's to steal the wine glass and place it on the porch beneath them then wrapped her arm around the older woman. "I got really used to being here."

Regina let her head nestle against the blonde's side in silent agreement. "Do you know where you'll be going?"

"Georgia for now," she answered.

"You won't be going overseas?" Even under her arm, Emma could feel Regina tense at the thought.

"Not that I know of."

"Good," Regina said tightly, her hand unconsciously gripping the hem of Emma's shirt into a fierce fist.

The younger woman grinned, her head placed softly on top of Regina's as she whispered. "I'm gonna really miss you."

Regina laughed lightly and pulled her head up, meeting Emma's despondent stare. "You'll still write to me." It was a fact that neither woman could deny.

"Bossy," the blonde teased with a twitch of her lip.

With a pinch to Emma's side, Regina shook her head. "I'll miss you too."

Like magnets, they were drawn to one another, their mouths meeting in the middle as they kissed softly. "I'm really gonna miss that," Emma said breathlessly.

Regina smirked against her lips before pressing one more firm kiss of a promise against pink lips. "You have your calling card? Henry's expecting phone calls from you."

"Just Henry?"

"I suppose I'd like to check in as well."

Emma grinned and nodded. "With my personal items."

"Good." Without another thought, Regina pressed her hands against the sides of Emma's face and pulled the blonde to her, kissing her so suddenly she gasped at the shock. Her surprise was only temporary for her hands found Regina's waist, all but hoisting the brunette into her lap.

Jesus, had they actually waited this long to do this? For a brief moment, Emma thought she deserved a medal for restraining herself against the seductive powers of Regina Mills, but truth be told, if she was forced to wait a hundred years just for the chance of kissing this woman then she would damn well wait.

A moan sounded between them, vibrating against both sets of eager lips though neither woman knew the source. When Emma felt the tip of a tongue dance along her bottom lip, she opened happily, gasping as Regina's tongue played with the roof of her mouth, stroking insistently and filled with promise. Emma couldn't help but grin against red lips because even if she had Regina for only a few more hours, knowing she did have her, knowing she could kiss her whenever she liked, knowing she was part of their lives, that was enough to make her giddy.

She nipped at Regina's bottom lip before pressing hot kisses along Regina's jaw. She finally reached the older woman's ear where she licked the shell, causing an eruption of laughter from Regina as the brunette's ear and shoulder met in protection and she pulled back playfully from Emma.

"You're ticklish there," Emma discovered with a pleased grin, hovering over the cowering brunette.

"I was surprised," Regina said petulantly, crossing her arms over her chest with a glare.

"Oh really?" Emma untangled Regina's arm and weaved them around her neck.

"Mmhmm." Regina's eyes were already fluttering shut as Emma zeroed in on her neck. She thread her fingers through blonde locks, pressing the younger woman to her. It wasn't until she let out another yelp and pushed Emma away did Regina realize that the blonde was making her way up her neck, licking into the shell of her ear again. "Fine," Regina glared. "It's ticklish there."

The blonde grinned and nibbled on the lobe of Regina's ear, pressing her body into the older woman's as Regina tried to suppress the giggles wracking her body. It was a half moan half laugh Emma was able to elicit from the brunette, but as her fingers danced along the plane of Regina's taut stomach, Regina shuddered hotly, using her arms around Emma's neck to pull her impossibly closer.

But then the blonde stopped kissing her with a quizzical look on her face. "Hey, did you call my car a monstrosity when I came here."

Regina rolled her eyes, not even apologizing, and silenced the thought with another searing kiss.

The airport was eerily quiet for two in the morning. Emma, Regina, and Henry were in Boston International Airport and had been for the past couple of hours.

Emma had said goodbye to Storybrooke sometime after dinner where the trio had spent their last night together making mini pizzas, and to both Emma and Henry's delight, apple turnovers with ice cream. They would have left sooner, but the women discovered that Henry, who had woken up while they were preoccupied on the back porch, had hidden Emma's duffel under the bed and her shoes were tossed down the basement steps. Her boots especially had taken them quite a bit of time to find. Emma had to admit, the kid was pretty clever at only three years old. He definitely got it from his mom. She wondered, not for the first time, what kind of mischief the kid was going to get into when he got older.

The Benz followed the Volkswagen all the way to Boston where Emma dropped off her car in the storage locker. Bags were deposited into the Mercedes as Regina drove them to the airport, arriving there just after midnight.

It was a relatively smooth process checking the blonde in, and once everything was deemed to be in order, it was now just a waiting game for the boarding call.

Henry had knocked out ages ago, sometime between Augusta and Gardiner, and according to Regina, he had gladly entertained his mother with a never ending game of I Spy before the car ride lulled him to sleep. Many a tree were spotted on Regina's drive down to Boston. Henry managed to perk up when both women needed a stop over at a small coffee shop in Biddeford to stretch their legs and refresh their stomachs. He was currently sleeping on the chair beside Regina, the older woman's jacket wrapped under his head as a makeshift pillow with Rex tucked under his arm. He had promised Emma that she would get to keep him for real, but the blonde was content with letting the little man have Him. He needed him more than she did.

"You're gonna be okay, right?" Emma asked breaking the silence, threading her fingers with Regina's as they lay on the armrest.

"I'm not invalid," Regina said with a forced huff, though the edge wasn't in her voice.

"I know," the blonde reassured, stroking her thumb over the back of Regina's hand.

A quiet discontent settled around them again as Emma thought how quickly this month had flew by. She remembered getting easily bored at August's during the day, and a part of her had almost wanted to return back to the base for a little more purpose, but she was so grateful that August had all but kicked her out of his place in her search for Regina. Despite the sadness she felt for leaving, she couldn't help but be happy that she had a place to call home, though a part of her was hesitant to call it that just yet, something innate knew that was what Storybrooke was. Home. A place to miss. People she knew would be difficult not to see on a daily basis. Someone to dream about. Someone to care about her. Yeah, it was definitely home.

Regina's eyes fought the tiredness of the late night and the five-hour trip, and Emma felt a twinge of guilt that once again this woman who had no obligation to her whatsoever had somehow climbed past Emma's wall and was willing to give the blonde a shot. It amazed her that a woman like Regina could even exist. But here Regina was, sporadically widening her eyes to bat the sleep away as her head rested against Emma's arm.

"You can sleep," the blonde suggested. "I'll wake you when I have to board."

At that, Regina snapped her head up and shook her head, clearing the tiredness away with force as she pressed her palms to her cheeks. "I'm fine."

"You're tired."

"I booked a hotel for Henry and I," Regina explained. "Long weekend," she added dryly.

"Is there anything you're not prepared for?" Emma teased, laughing when Regina smirked with a raised eyebrow that personified the fearsome Madam Mayor.

"First class ticket holders for Flight 436 to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, please make your way to the terminal."

At the announcement, Emma stood and picked up her rucksack. "I'm just gonna change quickly."

Regina nodded, watching as Emma headed out of the waiting area to the large hallway where the washrooms were held.

Regina was unaware she was biting her thumb until she nipped too hard on her cuticle and winced at the pain. The anxiety in her at the thought of Emma leaving rivalled that of when her father passed away. It was fine, she told herself. It wasn't like Emma was being shipped off to war. She was simply heading back to Benning for the time being. She could very well complete her service simply by being on Reserves for the remainder of her term. Many soldiers completed their service without going on tour. There was nothing to worry about.

The logic should have eased Regina's racing mind but all it served to do was force her to picture Emma in the midst of warfare, shots firing, land mines erupting, and buildings burning. If Regina had an overactive imagination from mere wonderings of Emma's experiences, she couldn't comprehend what the blonde's nightmares were like.

Regina scowled to herself at her pessimism. The military wasn't always like that – guns, bombs, and prisoners of war. She had read that many soldiers enjoy their time serving, making lasting relationships with peers, and learning skill sets that were transferable in the workforce. That was Emma. She was a survivor. She'd be fine.

A soft moaning sounded beside her, and she snapped her head to Henry who was curled uncomfortably on the chair, whimpering in his sleep.

"Shhh," she soothed, rubbing one hand along his back while the other brushed the much too long locks of brown hair out of his eyes. She had nearly convinced him to get a haircut, but Emma had said that if he wanted to look like Jim Hawkins, he'd have to pierce his ear. The blonde looked almost smug, expecting Henry to clutch his ears and scream out preemptively at the sting of the piercing gun and try to chop off his hair instead. She was wrong. Now Henry wasn't letting anyone near him with a pair of scissors or a razor.

His eyes fluttered open though they drooped, wanting to succumb to sleep.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

Even in his half-awake state, Henry's eyes shifted around swiftly. "Where's Emma?" Without being given an answer his eyes started to water in fear before Regina quieted him down again with soft humming.

"She's in the washroom. You can still say goodbye to her."

He nodded and sat up despite Regina's attempt to cradle him back down then climbed over the armrests to sit in his mother's lap. "She come back tomorrow?" He asked hopefully, clutching Regina's cheeks to her eye contact.

Regina chuckled softly. "No, sweetie, not tomorrow."

He pouted and looked to be on the verge of arguing when he turned and awed audibly. Regina looked for the source of his wonderment and found Emma, strutting from the hallway in her shades of beige and pale green camouflage uniform and her hair pulled back into a severe bun. If Regina were to see her on the street, she would have thought this woman serious and no nonsense. Seeing the transformation from Emma Swan to Corporal Swan was quite impressive just from the vast disparity between the two. Gone was the wild-haired blonde who chased her son around with cardboard swords. In her place was the disciplined soldier who had seen too much at too young an age.

"What are you doing awake?" Emma's voice was soft despite the hardness of her face as she sat beside Regina, using a finger to poke at Henry and offering Regina a to-go cup of coffee the brunette hadn't noticed until now.

She smiled her thanks as the boy moved silently from Regina's lap into Emma's, leaning back to eye her uniform curiosity.

"You clean up well, soldier," Regina commented, one edge of her lips curling upwards as she took in the blonde beside her.

Emma smirked and nuzzled her forehead against Henry's. "I'm glad you're awake. I got you something too."

"A present?" He asked eagerly.

She produced a small United States flag pin from her pocket, displaying it in the palm of her hand. "There was only a tiny kiosk opened this late."

Henry didn't hear her explanation as he picked up the pin and inspected it with careful eyes. "Is it a toy?"

She shook her head. "Remember how you wanted a necklace like me and August?" When Henry nodded, she continued. "It's kind of like that, except you can pin it onto your shirt. I work for them too,"'she explained pointing to the pin, "and you can pretend."

He grinned his acceptance to Regina who smiled fondly at the two before stretching out the front of his sweater for Emma to pin it on. With a grin of her own, she unclasped the backing and carefully pressed the pin through his hoodie and slid her other hand under it to close the fastening. She nudged his chin with a knuckle when she was done. "Look at you, kid."

Henry looked down at the pin and grinned widely. "Look, Mommy!"

"I see, sweetheart." Regina said straightening out his sweater. "You clean up well too."

He giggled happily and scooted off Emma's lap, running to the seat he had vacated, Regina's coat now sprawled haphazardly against the chair and Rex still sleeping the night away. He grabbed the dinosaur and was already holding him out in front of him before running the two steps back to Emma. "Rex cleans up too," he mimicked, tilting the dinosaur side to side in some dance move. "He's for you."

"Kid..." Emma tried but Henry climbed back up into her lap and placed Rex insistently into her arms.

"Rex is really good at giving hugs," Henry explained playing with the stubby arms of the toy. "He doesn't like hide and seek 'cause I always find him and I always pick the bestest hiding spots, and he makes the bad dreams go away."

The last one hit a nerve in Emma's chest, and without further control of her body, her eyes watered as she quickly pulled Henry and Rex into a tight hug. She pressed a kiss to the curve of his neck. "You're the best, kid."

He giggled into Emma's chest. "I know," he said pulling back and pointing at the E. Swan patch stitched onto the right breast of the blonde's jacket. "What's that?"

"My name," she explained easily.

"Can you show Emma how you know your letters?" Regina interjected, giving Henry a minute as she pointed to the first.

He scrunched up his face in adorable concentration. "E...Ssss...W...ah...A...and...N!"

"Good job, sweetie," Regina praised with adoration as Emma held up a hand for a high five, shaking it out with dramatic effect when Henry connected with all his might. "What does it say?"

He squinted an eye in thought. "Emma?"

They laughed as the blonde shook her head. "It says Swan. My last name."

Nodding quickly, Henry looked for more things to point out on her uniform until he found her rank insignia stitched on the sleeve. "What's that?"

He used his finger to trace the two chevrons pointing pointing upward.

"It's to show other people that I'm a Corporal."

"What's mine?" He asked.

Emma was pretty good at thinking on her feet and even Regina seemed to be milling around her mind for a suitable answer should Emma not be quick enough, but half a second later the blonde grinned. "Remember that apple on your shield at your birthday?"

He nodded his understanding.

"That means you're a Mills like Mommy."

"Yeah!" He agreed happily before brightening up at a thought. "You had one too. On your sword, 'member?"

This time Regina grinned wickedly and nudged the blonde with her shoulder, doing little to hide her smile behind her coffee cup. "Yes, dear, you had one too."

"We're all Millses," Henry decided with finality.

The thought of being claimed by another used to frighten Emma but coming from the little boy sitting on her lap as his mother, her girlfriend of sorts, she realized with an amazed internal smile, being part of something like that wasn't so scary at all.

She chuckled softly. "I don't know, you guys look like Swans to me."

"No!" Henry shook his head, covering his mouth from his laughter. "I'm not a bird."

The lobby echoed with their laughter when they realized Henry didn't quite understand the idea behind Emma's surname.

"No, you're not a bird," Regina acknowledged dutifully, rubbing Henry's back in agreement before muttering more to the blonde than her son. "Plus, I have no intention of giving up my maiden."

Emma caught Regina's eye with meaning, and in that moment, it was as if both women realized the future they had ahead of them with the other and shared a shy smile. "Well neither am I," the blonde argued.

"Well it looks like we're at a stalemate then," Regina said quietly with a shrug of her shoulder as she held a meaningful gaze with the younger woman.

Bored with their conversation and wired up despite the late hour, Henry slipped off Emma's lap and began running around the terminal, the airport his new playground. Usually Regina would restrain him from being so hyper in such a public setting, but with the single other passenger that walked by in the last half hour gone, she allowed Henry to have free reign.

"You look good," Regina complimented, running her hand up and down Emma's arm.

"That's why I enlisted. I look amazing in camo," teased the blonde.

Regina rolled her eyes and caught Emma's fingers, her thumb tracing a smooth path from the blonde's index along the curve where her thumb extended.

"Where do you want to go?" Emma asked quietly as they watched Henry gallop back and forth from the directory to the garbage bin.

Regina suppressed a yawn with her closed fist. "A little context, dear."

"When I get back," the blonde explained. "I want to take you on a date."

Regina glanced shyly up at Emma as red tinted her cheeks. "If my count is correct this will be date number two."

"Right, we already did the classic dinner and a movie thing, huh?" With a wry grin, Emma added, "too bad we didn't do the classic make out in the back seat of my car thing."

"I can see you have a one-track mind, soldier. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted me only for my body."

Emma chuckled but squeezed Regina's hand sincerely as she shook her head. "I didn't have to see what you looked like to know how awesome you are."

For a long moment, the air was filled with yearning so strong the pull nearly stole the women's breath as promises and memories filled the space between them.

"For passengers travelling on Flight 436, make your way to the terminal now please."

The man's voice on the overhead sent Emma's heart sinking down into her chest, not even realizing that Regina was having the same feeling. She called to Henry and pressed a kiss to his head when he came galloping back then grabbed her rucksack and swung it onto her back in the process. Regina stood swiftly, gathering their own belongings before Henry took a hand from either woman, sensing their departure and followed them to where a few people were in queue to be allowed onto the plane.

They stopped several yards away, close enough for Emma to catch the last boarding call but far enough that allowed the trio their privacy. Wordlessly, Emma bent down and opened her arms up for Henry, the boy running into her arms the second they parted and squeezing her tightly around the neck. She held him for a long minute until his patience wore thin and he started to squirm. Still, when she released him, she held his shoulders in her grasp and spoke to him firmly. "You and Mommy watch out for each other, okay?"

"Okay," he promised.

"Don't forget to tell her that you love her everyday."

"I'll tell her."

Her voice softened as his wide, brown eyes stared up at her awaiting her next order. "I'm gonna miss you, kid."

She hugged him one last time before standing and facing Regina. The brunette had already discarded her coffee on the walk over and was clutching her middle almost protectively.

"Hi," Emma tried to smirk, but the coyness just couldn't reach her eyes.

"Hey," Regina answered habitually.

The blonde's hand came up to squeeze Regina's forearm affectionately as longing shone in both chocolate and jade eyes. "I'm gonna miss you too."

Regina gave a watery smile before stepping into Emma's space, the blonde understanding immediately and wrapping her arms around Regina who still kept herself wrapped up. "Be safe. Don't do anything stupid."

Emma had been given many orders over the years, some questionable, while others obvious, but that order, almost pleadingly so, coming from Regina was one she promised herself to follow blindly.

But in true Emma Swan fashion, instead of agreeing out loud her vow to follow through, she had a typical sarcastic comment to replace it with. "You know me. I live on the wind of caution"

Regina rolled her eyes and gently pushed out of Emma's embrace, though she stayed chest to chest with the younger woman. "We could make a list of all the reckless things you've done this month alone."

"I'd like to see that."

"That list is endless and your plane is leaving soon."

The blonde sent a playful glare before unwrapping Regina's arms from around her waist and threading them around her neck for another hug. "I'll write to you as soon as I land."

"And call," Regina reminded.

"And call," Emma promised.

They stayed wrapped up in each other's arms, knowing they should part before any onlookers might spot them, but neither woman really gave a damn in that moment. Both knew that every second counted and they would make it last. Emma memorized the way Regina smelled like her night cream and shampoo, lavender and spice all mixed into one. Regina focused on the way her heart thudded maddeningly in her ears whenever Emma touched her, the way it ached for time to simultaneously to slow down and speed up just so she could make the moment last or for Emma's quick return.

They separated briefly, their eyes shining with unbidden emotion as another warning call sounded for passengers to board.

"Do not even think about singing Leaving on a Jet Plane," Regina warned, shoving Emma on the shoulder lightly.

The blonde erupted in watery laughter and thoroughly debated doing just that if only to aggravate Regina one more time but thought better of it. She placed a lingering kiss on Regina's cheek as she had less than a week ago when they stood on the porch of the mansion on Mifflin.

"Stay awesome," Emma said gently before removing herself from Regina much too quickly for her likely but completely necessary because in all honesty, if she didn't let her go, quick like a band-aid, she wouldn't be getting on the plane. She ruffled Henry's hair one more time before turning and striding toward the terminal. She didn't look back, couldn't, when she handed the attendant her ticket and pushed past the glass doors and made her way to the runway.

With each hollow step as she strode through the hallway to the plane, perky attendants greeting her good morning and a safe flight, Emma felt like she was walking away from the best thing that ever happened to her. A sense of dread filled her as she entered the sporadically filled plane where some passengers were already trying to get some shut eye. She removed Rex from her sack and rifled through the bundle of pictures until she found the one she wanted, clutching it to her before hoisting the rucksack into the overhead compartment and sitting down in her seat by the window.

The picture already showed a little wear around the edges from being jostled in her bag and being bunched up with an elastic. The photograph looked up at her, and Emma smiled back as she and Regina stared happily at her from the photo, twin grins and not a care in the world.

Soon, she promised. She'd be home soon.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: I'm terrible at answering my emails lately, but I'm getting to your reviews! Thank you guys so much for your support.

Emma dropped her duffel on top of her bed and sat down hard beside it. She swung her rucksack into her lap and contemplated her surroundings with just a little hint of disappointment. It wasn't a large double bed with a duvet that felt like it was stuffed with the fluff from cloud nine and housing stuffed animals with a tendency to stick their legs, fins, and tails in her face every time she lay in it, and it certainly wasn't Regina's queen with its goose down pillows and the brunette woman occupying it and her thoughts.

It was a simple single with a good pillow and a pretty warm blanket stationed in the corner Emma had claimed well before being shipped to Iraq. The manilla beige walls surrounding her were still naked as it had been when she left, but her lips twitched into a smile when she eagerly pulled the string of her rucksack and dug through her belongings to find the photos encased in her stolen sweater. Brushing off her cap and placing it on the small nightstand beside her, she unfolded the sweater to find her photos, grinning wildly at the mere thought that she had something to put up, people to show off. More importantly, she had some semblance of grounding that outside this base, when she took off the uniform and let down her hair, she was a part of something. She wasn't quite sure if this is what a family felt like - her and August had a pretty good rarely expressed sibling relationship going on - but she was certain that Storybrooke, Regina and Henry, they were who she wanted to come home to when all this was over.

The thought wasn't as frightening as it should have been. Rifling through the pictures, Emma was constantly reminded that she had someone waiting for her. That was pretty awesome.

Borrowing tape from her neighbour, Emma decorated her walls with almost half of the pictures she had brought along with her. Up went the first picture she, Regina, and Henry had taken all together at his birthday party, right next to that one was Henry seated in August's wheelchair, the duo forming a tentative relationship since Henry had deemed him a nice enough cyborg much to Regina's embarrassment, and directly below that was a corny tourist shot of Emma beneath the clock tower, her and Henry with their mouth comically open in feigned shock as they pointed up at the broken clock. She spent nearly fifteen minutes, carefully choosing which pictures to display and which would remain with the bulk.

She kept the rest hidden in the sweater for the time being but pulled out the last picture of her and Regina, nestled comfortably on the couch, their heads pressed and their eyes beaming with unbidden happiness. She took a moment to soak it in before slipping it into her pillow case for safekeeping. The final piece to her small corner was Rex, placed strategically atop the pillow to ward off bad dreams and to keep her safe as Henry had promised. The dinosaur sat unthreateningly on her bed, one arm noticeably thinner than the other since Regina couldn't salvage the stuffing from the accident, a grape juice stain spotting his yellow belly though his green scales looked to be as clean as if it were new. Henry Mills was inked onto his tag by his red spiked tail in Regina's signature penmanship, and another sudden pang in Emma's chest struck her hard.

Her time with the Regina and Henry was way too short. A little voice in the back of her mind told her that a month of feigned ignorant bliss was better than nothing, but dammit, Emma had tasted a drop of ambrosia and she was starving to be filled. Her lips frowned for half a second as she took another look around, nodding at the passing room mates whom she caught their eye.

Man, what was wrong with her? Less than a day back and she was already homesick.

Resisting the urge to clutch Rex to her in a tight embrace, Emma stood abruptly shrugging off her jacket until she was left in her plain white tank top. She worked quickly depositing her clothes into the trunk at the base of her bed and folding her duffel to the side of it. Her rucksack was the last to be emptied as she carefully placed her Storybrooke sweater on top while her letters, pictures, and drawings were designated to her bedside table.

It felt surreal being back at base after being away in Storybrooke. She had once called Benning home, or as close to it as she could get. It was familiar, and though it was intense, she was good at her job and praised for it. Even during the years when she and Regina had simply exchanged letters, Benning was a place where she was recognized, where the few friends she had made were, where her brother was.

There was a nostalgic feeling sitting on her bunk, surrounded by her team as they greeted those who had taken leave, but that's all it was: nostalgia. A place she missed, but a place in her past. Emma was a runner with a killer fight or flight response. She ran from foster parents, from teachers, from cops. Hell, she even fought them too. But she didn't want to run this time. Not away, at least. She wanted to go back, and for the first time in her life, she was at a loss to how to get there.

"Swan." Neal walked up to Emma, already in his own plain grey t-shirt and tactical pants as he leaned against the corner wall and tossed her a bottle of water. "Was wondering when you'd get in. How's August?"

Emma caught it, unscrewing the cap and taking a generous gulp. "He's good. Still can't kick my ass."

"He never could," Neal snorted.

"Neither could you," the blonde reminded only half-jokingly. "He's not running again yet, but he's getting used to the feel of his leg."

The pictures above Emma's head caught Neal's eye as he squinted and walked over to the adjacent wall. "What, did you guys have a photoshoot or something?"

She turned swiftly, explanation caught in her mouth as he leaned closer to inspect the pictures.

"Hey," Neal chuckled pointing out Henry in a wheelchair, "who's the cute little kid?"

"His name's Henry."

"Don't tell me August has a kid he never told us about."

Emma snorted. "God, no. Can you imagine August as a father?"

"Probably better than mine," Neal grumbled before sitting down and picking up Rex. "I take it this is Henry's? Unless you've got a secret stuffed animal collection."

Emma nodded, and none too subtly extracted Rex from Neal's fingers and held him to her. "Yeah, kid gave it to me."

"He's your nephew or. . .?" Neal pried.

"No," Emma shook her head, her pulse kicking in her veins but her eyes remaining neutral as she pointed out Regina in a picture. "He's my friend's son."

Neal grinned up at the picture of the trio decked out in foil and cardboard, standing at the base of the steps. "You guys look great."

Her eyes snapped up to the side of his face as he continued to examine the picture, and Emma wondered if he knew what Regina and Henry meant to her, and if he did, would he say anything about it. Neal was pretty liberal, a couple petty crimes under his own belt before he had enlisted that made Emma feel like she could count on him, but it was easier said than done. Emma had learned that the hard way, and though she'd take a bullet for her friend, she wasn't sure what his views on her love life were like.

"You think so?" Emma asked casually, reading his expressions.

"The kid must have loved the costumes," Neal explained. "What'd you dress up for?"

"His birthday," she answered.

"Hey!" His eyes widened in realization. "Is this the kid who keeps sending you those drawings?"

"Yeah," she said with finality.

Neal caught her eye, and she could tell that he was itching to ask more questions about her time away. She had revealed more personal information in that ten minutes alone than she had ever in the three years they had known each other. Whatever he planned on asking, Emma cut him off by clearing her throat and placing Rex back on her pillow. "So how's Tamara?"

With a grin, Neal held up his left hand, showing off a gold band around his ring finger.

Regina was a worrier, though her subordinates called it anal-retentive when they thought she couldn't hear them as they took their breaks by the water cooler. She liked to call it being thorough, for there was never any harm in double checking facts or tuning in to the news every night to make sure there were no unplanned invasions on her watch. Not that she could do much about the latter, but she hadn't heard anything from Emma in over a week, and Channel Six proved to be her only source on anything international.

Though she called it thorough, Tina Bell had casually commented on her paranoia once and never again when she found Regina sitting in the diner one evening with every newspaper their town offered. The deadly glare Regina threw her way was as powerful as any nuclear bomb.

Regina missed Emma, that was simply just fact and anyone in Storybrooke could attest to that. She had gotten used to adult conversation where she and the blonde talked about any and everything. She swore she could hear her front door opening and closing gently right at the break of dawn when Emma would leave the mansion for her run around town. Sometimes a flash of yellow would catch the corner of her eye, and she would turn hoping to catch a familiar Volkswagen, though every time it was Alice Hatter in her obnoxiously yellow GT. Regina even missed the simple pleasures, when the way that with Emma around, they could swing Henry between them on their walks to the park. Henry had attempted to do it one-handed with just Regina on his side, but instead of his feet lifting off the ground, the boy received a raised arm and jumped over the cracks of his own volition.

Twice already, Regina had to defuse tantrums from her three-year old who didn't understand why they couldn't visit Emma at her house. When Regina explained that she wasn't home, a sudden pang in her chest stung at the realization that Emma didn't really have a place to call home. Group home to group home to boot camp, remember? Emma had once said.

Though she had always had a respect for the woman, the amazement Regina had for her was almost too much to handle.

Emma had been alone her entire life, and though Regina could sympathize, she, at least, had the benefit of being raised by a loving father and mothering an adoring son. Regina was infamous for closing herself off to the general public, but with Emma it was just so easy to talk to her, to listen to her, to be with her. The orphaned girl who had nothing and no one to her name had wedged herself in the Mills' lives, and they gladly accepted her whole-heartedly as she stole a piece of their hearts.

That was why Regina was being thorough in making sure Emma was safe.

She knew her mailman stopped by her house on his route between one and one-thirty – two if Ms. Lucas' Siberian Husky, Red, got out and decided to aid in the man's fitness by chasing him around the block. It took all of her willpower not to stop by her mansion during her lunch to check the mail because even she knew the consequences that occur when one gets one's hopes up. Plus, Tina's comment rubbed her the wrong way, and she was not paranoid.

This is what killed Regina the most – waiting in between letters for word from Emma. When the blonde had been sent overseas, Regina's thumb cuticle suffered greatly in anticipation for every letter, for some sign that the younger woman was okay. The relief that flooded through her when she saw Emma's moderately better chicken scratch handwriting soothed her nerves down until she would mail her own response and the cycle started all over again.

That had been when they were simply friends.

Now that they were – dating? lovers? girlfriends? – something meaningful, she knew for sure, the anticipation was enough to send Regina into cardiac arrest.

Regina had lost her father, and despite their strenuous and precarious relationship, she had lost her mother too. The nights she spent wallowing in bitter tears, furious and devastated by their quick departure left her inconsolable. She knew they were never coming back no matter how many stars she wished on. But Emma was going to return, she reminded herself. She was just working, just like another day at the office. Except that her work required her to hold government secrets and to be familiarized with guns and rifles and the like. On top of that, sometimes accidents occurred during training sessions, and it wasn't uncommon for a soldier to get caught in a crossfire as they waded under barbed wire with bullets hailing down.

Dear god, maybe she was paranoid.

Regina shook her head of the thought, forcing the image away, as she pulled into her driveway and helped remove Henry from the car seat. She took a deep breath and settled her nerves with a hug from her son, nudging her chin against his hair.

"Mommy," he squirmed, tugging her head up and looked seriously scornful. "That tickles."

"Good," she smirked and nuzzled her lips against his neck as he laughed wildly.

She set him down on the driveway, clutching one hand as they walked toward the front steps.

"Can we have ice cream?" Henry asked, giving Regina his best wounded puppy look.

She chuckled softly, helping him jump onto the porch step. "Not for dinner."

"But it's healfy," he reasoned.

"Oh?" She quirked an eyebrow, fishing around her mailbox for its contents. "How so?"

Henry jumped excitedly, ignoring her question in favour for waiting for his mother to place the key in the lock. She had recently allowed him to turn it and open the door all by himself. With a click, Henry had the door swung open and he raced his mother into the kitchen. It didn't take a genius to figure out where Henry was headed to, her sigh punctuated when she heard the tell-tale sign of the freezer door opening. "No ice cream, Henry, or you will not have a bed time story tonight."

Immediately the freezer door slammed shut and annoyed murmuring from the three-year old reached the foyer. God, help her when Henry grew up and learned to slam doors and lock bedrooms. She set her briefcase down by the side table and looked through her mail, separating them from bills and junk. She mentally went through her list of ingredients in preparation for the night's dinner, but thoughts of oregano and tomato flew out the window when she saw a letter written from Emma.

She grinned and dropped the rest of her mail on the side table, clutching the letter in her hand. "Henry!" She called, turning from the foyer to stand in the middle of the hallway. "I have something to show you."

"We going for ice cream?" He galloped excitedly from the kitchen, his arms outstretched and ready to be caught.

Regina crouched in time to swing him into her arms and walked the short distance so mother and son sat at the base of the stairs. She placed Henry two steps higher than herself so they were eye level to one another.

"Emma sent us something," she said, producing the letter.

"Yeah!" Henry cheered, clapping his hands then opening and closing his fists in a gimme gesture.

Regina carefully ripped the side of the envelope before running her finger through the length. A square photograph the width of the envelope fell into her lap, and she picked it up to find that it was a polaroid of Emma, tank top, cargos, and bun up, as she sat on her cot with Rex sitting on her shoulder and the corner walls behind her littered with photographs and drawings Henry had given her.

"Look, sweetie." Regina pressed her head to Henry's so they both could look at the picture.

"It's Rex!" He beamed, yanking the picture out of Regina's hands and studying it with gusto.

The move made Regina see the pinched writing on the white space at the back of the polaroid, and with the gentle persuasion of a tug, she managed to turn the picture in Henry's grasp and leaned closer to read it.

"It's for you," she prefaced, already catching the first few words. "Hey Henry!" Regina read, nudging the boy when he giggled and suppressed a blush at his first real piece of mail. "You're right. Rex is keeping me company. He gives the best hugs, but yours are even better. Don't tell him I said that though. Miss you, kid. Love, Emma."

Henry eagerly flipped the picture onto its front and all but shoved it in Regina's face. "Look, Mommy, Emma has my art."

Regina gently eased his hand to an appropriate level and continued to soak in the picture. "I see, sweetie. How about after dinner we can draw her something else to pin up?"

"Yeah!" He agreed readily and shot up to his room, picture clutched within his fingers as he bounded up the stairs.

She smiled fondly, turning back to the envelope, and was pleased to find the lined paper within containing Emma's writing. Regina flipped open the three-fold and read just as excitedly as her son had been receiving the picture.

May 7 2004

Hi,

Told you I would write as soon as I got here. I haven't figured out this calling card thing yet, but I'm resourceful. It feels really weird that I don't get to see you and the little man everyday anymore. I saw you guys all of twelve hours ago, but it feels like I never left base. That is definitely not a good thing.

To ease your worry, it was an unpleasant flight. Rex is a good travel companion. I caught up with some of the people here who also went home to see their families. Neal proposed to his girlfriend and I have been officially invited to this wedding. Actually, they technically already got married at city hall or something, but they're gonna have this big thing when he gets back for good. What do you think, is a wedding second date material or too cliche?

Henry's not the only one I miss. I miss you too, Regina. Be good. Don't make anyone cry while I'm gone.

Emma

Regina laughed and shook her head at the blonde's last parting comment. She could hear them in her head were Emma standing before her, teasing her of the same thing. Regina would scoff and shrug coyly making no promises.

Standing from the bottom step and tugging the bottom of her skirt down to its perfectly pressed state, Regina walked up the stairs, fingers grazing the polished varnish of the hardwood railing as her right hand continued to hold the letter, currently the closest thing she had to the blonde. After weeks of intertwined fingers and not-so-casual touches, the letter was the best replacement she had for Emma.

She stopped when she reached Henry's door and found her son sitting on the floor beside his bed and in front of his dresser, Emma's photograph laying a few inches away as he fiddled with the backing of a photo frame that encased a cartoon Mickey Mouse. Regina watched his frustrations for a minute, amused as his chubby little fingers ignored the fastenings as he tugged relentlessly on the stand.

"It stuck," he said, sensing his mother's presence and holding up the frame.

"Let me show you a trick." Regina stepped into the room and finally shook off her thin beige trench coat she hadn't realized she still had on until then. Laying it on his bed, she sat cross legged beside him and lifted him effortlessly into her lap. "You turn these," she said motioning to the fastening that kept the backing secure. "Then the back will come off."

Henry scratched at the fastenings, his short stubby nails useless against the piece of plastic. He shook his head frustrated and held the frame up for his mother to fix. "It still stuck," he insisted. "It's broken."

Regina laughed and undid the back for him, teaching him carefully how the picture stays in place. She briefly wondered if that was a mistake because once Henry learned something new, that was all he did until something else caught his attention. She wagered at least twelve of the house's photographs would either be replaced or missing within the next month.

Henry leaned over to grab at the Polaroid and placed it over the Mickey Mouse picture. The small 3x3 picture wasn't enough to cover Mickey's ears, but it was perfect nonetheless as Henry did the honours of replacing the backing and stood from Regina's lap to put the frame back on his dresser, beside his lamp and fairy tale book.

"Good as new," he deemed, beaming wildly at his mother.

"It's even better." She tapped his side affectionately before standing to her feet and holding out a hand for him. "Let's tell her all about it."

HI EMMA! IT IS HENRY. I WENT TO THE FARM AND MILKED A COW. I MISS YOU. I LOVE YOU.

LOVE, HENRY

Emma grinned at the crayon letter written on a numerously folded cut-out heart. A cow, two pigs, a horse, and a red coloured barn decorated around the message in random chaos but two stick fingers of Regina and Henry holding hands was centered at the bottom tip of the heart. Regina clearly helped Henry with his printing, if the too-straight lines and curly swirl of the Y's were any indication, but for the most part, Henry took special care in writing something for Emma. She knew for sure the toddler had mastered his own name and even attempted Emma's, though the loop of both m's seemed to be endless. The controlled shakiness of the "I LOVE YOU" made Emma's face split at the seams as she smiled fondly.

She set the heart to the side of the table she had claimed in the common room, drowning out the noise of the television as a group sat around the TV to watch Terminator 3. Plastic hitting metal clang through the room every few seconds as a fooseball game was struck just as Emma entered the room. Loud cheers as points were scored filled the corner of the room that Emma avoided, her own corner just quiet enough in order to read her latest letter from the Mills' in relative peace.

Making sure Henry's letter was put away from any prying eyes, next was Regina's letter, something she was saving for last because it would be the first time in exactly thirteen days that she would be hearing from Regina, and her excitement was getting the better of her. She tucked a finger underneath the flap and tore along the length, pulling out the monogrammed stationary, eager to read the older woman's words.

May 14 2004

Emma,

It feels like ages waiting for a letter, especially after weeks of simply having to enter a room to see you there or to call you from upstairs. I feel like a fool just thinking that, but no doubt you're smirking at the confession. It's true nonetheless.

I miss you too. I know how you feel. The drive back from Boston felt surreal. A part of me felt like when Henry and I would get back home you'd be sitting in the kitchen sneaking a second and third turnover. I admit, I'm still getting used to the change.

Henry has told me to properly inform you that we went on a field trip today. He said he milked a cow there, but really it was one of those simulation udders. I caught Henry trying to taste the water coming out of it. It was very hard to refute his argument that milk makes you strong when I told him he couldn't do that. I accompanied his daycare to the farm, and he thoroughly enjoyed the hay ride. Though Henry and his friends thought it funny to hide in the miniature corn maze claiming they had a top secret search and rescue mission. Sound familiar, soldier?

Send Neal my congratulations. A second date wedding? I can hear August's presumptuous comments and see your blushing face already. I suppose a wedding isn't as cliche as dinner and a movie. In all seriousness, it doesn't matter where we go. Just come back safely.

Regina

"I've never seen you smile this much," Neal commented as he sat down across from Emma, picking up Henry's heart-shaped letter and giving it a read. Emma nearly snapped at him for touching her stuff, tucking Regina's letter back into its envelope in preemptive protection, before frowning as he set the heart down. "You've got a fan back – where did you go to again?"

"Storybrooke." She took the heart back, following its folds and stuffing it back into the envelope.

"Storybrooke?" Neal asked with a hint of a snort. "Is that even big enough to be on a map?"

"Probably not."

They sat in content silence, Emma looking past him to watch the TV or smirk at the taunting from the blue team of the fooseball match. Most of all, she ignored the way that Neal was eyeing her questioningly, his eyes darting to her and down to her letters and up again.

"Hey Ems," he began, wringing out his hands. "I don't mean to pry–"

"Then don't." Her gaze never left the match, but her tone was a warning.

Neal, on the other hand, was known for taking matters into his own hands. He had disobeyed a direct order from August back when they had been scouting out suspected rebellion hide outs and nearly blown their cover. Lucky for him, it turned out they garnered the attention of civilians who needed help to stop a village fire and managed to help them without any harm done to anyone. Still, he had been reprimanded harshly, so Emma wasn't surprised when he didn't give two shits about her own slight threat.

"Who did you meet up?" He asked, scooting a chair closer and leaning in. "You said you didn't have anyone and then you come back and it's like you're a kid at Disney world."

She remained silent, moving her gaze from the fooseball table to glare at the man.

"Come on, I'm not gonna tell," he enticed with a grin, his dimples deep and inviting.

"Tell what, exactly?" She questioned.

"Just...tell," he got out flustered. "We gotta trust each other and watch each other's backs and all that. I don't even know your middle name, and it's been what? Three years?"

"I don't have one."

"Mine is Bailey," he provided pointedly.

"Neal Bailey Cassidy," she said with a snort.

"It's a guy's name," he grumbled, but Emma continued to chuckle under her breath at his embarrassment. The guy was usually so cocky that he could use a couple knocks to the ego.

Still, she felt like she owed the guy. Maybe it was opening herself to Regina that Emma was finally forming relationships in Storybrooke, or remembering August's words as they resonated within her but she sighed and realized that building up these walls didn't really get her anywhere. And it was Neal. She had grown to call the man a friend, and there should be mutual trust between them. But then again she thought she could trust Mrs. Montgomery, a foster mom who actually took the time to make Emma lunch and dinner everyday, until Emma approached her and confessed that Mr. Montgomery had been a little too handsy in teaching her how to bike ride. Needless to say, Emma was accused of seduction at the ripe age of eight and promptly kicked out.

She shrugged casually with a roll of her shoulder. "I told you. I saw my friend," she said quietly, mindful of the surrounding soldiers. "The one I've been writing to."

He nodded, his lips curving upward slightly at finally cracking the infamous Emma Swan. "You knew her as a kid or an old school friend?"

Her lips thinned in contemplation, wondering where to begin and wondering what to leave out. She knew Neal well enough, but not that well. "No."

He waited a moment, but it seemed that was all Emma was willing to offer. "No?" He repeated dryly. "That's it? Come on, Swan, you gotta give me something here."

She scoffed and stood, tucking her belongings to her before a thought made her falter. She wouldn't give him the information he wanted, but maybe she'd let him in just a little bit. Eyeing Neal with hopeful caution, she dug into her pants pocket and pulled out a small card. "Can you show me how to use this?"

Regina pressed two fingers to both sides of her temple and rubbed small circles to ease the headache that was forming there. Her council was a bunch of idiots, taking advantage of the fact that Regina had been otherwise preoccupied the past few weeks. True, she had rescheduled many important meetings for the week following Emma's departure, but she had failed to reschedule a voting that ended up pulling funds from the hospital in order to do road repairs along Smiths Circle. They had argued that Storybrooke was peaceful and quiet where very few citizens truly needed all that the hospital had to offer and that the town should better spend their money fixing up the aesthetics in order to bring in tourists thereby increasing profit.

That was a load of crap since Smiths Circle was a more isolated and residential part of town where eight out of the twelve council members resided. The other four lived on Mifflin.

Now Regina had to call an emergency voting, and though she had wanted to make it open to the public just to show that it wasn't she who was the only cold-hearted politician in this town, she had to make sure the people still had faith in their government despite the majority's idiocy.

Thus, her headache had formed.

"Madam Mayor, you have a call on line one," her secretary beeped in through the intercom.

Regina rolled her eyes and suppressed a groan. She had hoped Elizabeth had some sense when Regina had given her strict orders not to disturb her, but here's to hoping. She pressed the button on her speaker and made no effort to hide the annoyance from her voice. "Ms. Sparrow, please take a message as I had originally instructed you to do."

"I know, Ms. Mills, but I thought you would want to take this one."

"Is it Henry?" She questioned immediately, panic already creeping into her imagination.

"No, it's not–"

Regina overrode her secretary's microphone to speak. "Then what is so important that you can't take a message?"

There was a moment of hesitation on Elizabeth's end where Regina could virtually see the fear in the hazel eyes of her subordinate as she wondered whether to further disobey her. The white noise of the speaker crackled and Elizabeth's mousy voice leaked through again. "It's Corporal Swan–"

Regina ended their communication and reached for her phone, patching the line through to her office. "Hey," she said breathlessly.

"Hi."

Emma stood in front of one of the many pay phones located just down the hallway and across mess hall of the common room after waiting nearly twenty minutes for her turn. There were two lines for some reason, despite the fact that there were at least five pay phones available. Neal said it was because the phone closest to the corner wall by the window was the best spot, and it was an unspoken rule that the time limit on that one was inexistent. She saw a new recruit on the phone there, sitting on the window sill with his back to the line, nestled in his own private cocoon as he talked happily, probably with his mother. Neal had graciously stood in line with her though she could see that he was shaking with the need to ask who she was going to call. She knew he knew who she was going to call, but confirmation would have had the man reeling. Still, he held his tongue. Emma had never made a phone call since she came, and it was pretty exciting to see it first hand.

By the time a line freed up, Neal stood across the hall, holding up the wall with his shoulder as he crossed his arms and waited for Emma to finish up.

She had followed the instructions he had given her and soon the phone was ringing for Mifflin Street. So this is what zoo animals feel like, Emma thought as she looked around awkwardly at the impatient soldiers waiting for their turn. She felt their gaze deepen when the phone just continued to ring at the mansion and Emma quickly hung up only to dial Town Hall. Maybe she was breaking protocol and it was only one call per person, but like hell that was going to happen. She stood in line and everything.

The line rang and rang, and Emma became nervous and a little embarrassed that she had been standing at this phone for so long not talking to anyone. She stole a glance at Neal who had ceased watching her and had struck up a conversation with a man in the next unit over. Frederick Holt, if she remembered right. He was a pretty nice guy, which made many of his opponents underestimate him whenever they trained for close combat. His smile and friendliness was no match against his right hook. She quickly ducked back to the phone, pressing her hand on the wall above it when they turned at her gaze. She only managed a tight lipped smile at them just before turning her back to them.

The line continued to ring, and just when she was about to call it a day and hang up, Ms. Lizzie, as Henry liked to call her, answered and put her on hold. Instead of the dial tone, Emma had to suffer through some Muzak. She made a mental note to quiz Regina on that musification they had talked about on their non-date date.

But then the instrumentals cut out and her ears were flooded with the velvety smooth, rich and dark sound she hadn't heard in weeks.

"Hey," Regina said breathlessly.

Emma's face broke out into a grin she had no chance at containing. "Hi. I figured out how to use the calling card."

"It took you long enough," Regina quipped.

"Hey, there's like two numbers on the back of this thing before I get to put in yours," she argued.

"Our country is being protected by the best and brightest," Regina quipped.

"If you want to call me an idiot, just say it."

". . .Idiot."

"Feel better?" The blonde snorted.

They shared in a laugh before the line quieted down in contentment.

"It's good to hear your voice again," Emma whispered, breaking the silence.

"I know the feeling," Regina admitted, and though Emma couldn't see her, she was willing to bet Regina's cheeks had taken on a rosy hue. "How have you been?"

"Okay," the blonde said, twisting the phone to her other ear and turning to lean her back against the wall. "I've just been working a lot. They've got me in weapons control."

"I've no idea what that means," Regina admitted.

"It means I get to save the day by making sure our arms are in working condition."

"You're starting to sound like Henry with his hero ramblings," Regina teased. "Do you get to have a shield with a star on it as well?"

"You know Captain America? You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"You know this yet you continue to be surprised."

"It keeps things interesting," the blonde grinned. "Is Henry with you?"

"No, he's still at pre-school," Regina said apologetically.

Emma flipped her wrist and scrunched up her brow. "What's he doing there? It's almost 7. And why are you still working?"

Neal leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for Emma to finish up her call. He very badly wanted to laugh and poke fun at how nervous she looked once Neal had explained the calling card and left her to her own devices and privacy, but this was the first phone call Emma was making in the three years he had known her, and he was secretly hoping she'd fill him in on who got her stomach into knots.

Emma had always been reserved. The very first time he met her, he offered her a handshake, and he got two shakes and her rank and last name. It took him another three weeks to find out her name, and another week after that to realize that was all he was probably gonna get out of her.

Regardless, he liked the girl. She was tough and strong, and though he'd never admit it to her, she could kick the crap out of him and had done so on numerous occasions.

Throughout the months he got to know a little bit more about her, but it was all given up with the greatest of caution. She had grown up in the foster system where she had met their Sergeant, and from there she had enlisted. He thought she was one of those army brats since the first few months Emma did nothing except eat, sleep, and train in silence, but then one day he heard her name being called out for the mail, and that was enough to get him curious.

What truly peaked his interest was the barely contained smile, the first one he had ever seen from the blonde, every time there was something in the mail for her. And then little scribbles began appearing on her walls, and Neal was so sure that she had a kid back home that she was just missing. He knew as well as any that the first few months of being in the military took its toll, and she was just adjusting as best as she could. But when he asked if the drawings were her son's, she wrinkled her nose and said "no" before hitting the gym, and that was that.

He accepted the fact that this mystery person she was writing to must have been a friend or something, but seeing Emma after their month off had him wondering. She looked like some of the older guys who went home once a year to see their wife and kids and returned slightly bitter.

If it really was this friend, this female friend, she was calling, and writing to, and visiting, he had to wonder. . .

"Is that Swan using the phones?" Frederick Holt came from mess hall and leaned against the wall next to Neal, watching Emma just as bizarrely as the shorter man.

"Yeah, couldn't believe it myself."

"Boyfriend?"

Neal paused, watching as Emma shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and catching her eye. She gave them a tight lipped smile before turning her backs to them, pressing a hand to the wall as she hovered over the pay phone.

"Something like that," Neal muttered to himself quietly enough so that Frederick couldn't hear him. "I think it's just a friend."

"Hi," they heard Emma through the soft murmurings of the crowd, and both looked in time to see the beaming smile and bright eyes of the blonde's face.

"Yeah, I really doubt that's a friend," Frederick said and leaned back enjoying the show.

Regina had told her about her council, how she had had to stay later at work because of it, and how Tina had offered to stay later with Henry so Regina could pick him up from daycare. Emma had exaggerated her amazement that Regina was allowing Tina to babysit again, and Regina simply scoffed and muttered to herself why on earth she thought leaving Henry with Emma was a better idea.

"Because I'm loveable," Emma had claimed, and Regina hummed her agreement because she couldn't argue the truth. The blonde smirked, a smug tease on her lips before she caught the eye of Sergeant Major Calhoun behind her, waiting none too patiently for Emma to wrap up her call. She coughed and turned her back to him, lowering her voice and muttering "thought so" when Regina didn't have a proper retort.

Regina's line muffled and faint voices were heard over the mic before the brunette returned, sighing apologetically. "I'm sorry, I've got to go."

"Work?"

"I really wish it wasn't."

"Don't worry, I'm getting the evil eye over here too," Emma said loud enough for the Calhoun to hear. "I'll call you soon."

"I can't wait," Regina said earnestly.

"And tell Henry I say hi."

"He's going to be so upset he didn't get to speak with you."

"I know," the younger woman frowned just imagining Henry's pout and watery eyes. "Break it to him gently."

"Oh, you're leaving me to be the bad guy, are you?"

"Hey, every hero's gotta have a villain."

She could hear the faint groan coming from Regina's end at Emma's joke that only made the blonde grin wider. She gave one final look around and tucked in closer to the pay phone so that she was nearly embracing it. "Hey, uh," Emma stammered, running a hand through her hair. "I really miss you."

Regina's line was faint, but Emma could hear the fond sigh coming from the brunette. She could see it now: Regina sitting behind her desk, one hand clutching the phone to her ear as she shut her eyes and smiled softly. "I miss you too," Regina replied.

The weight in Emma's chest seemed to be pulling her lungs into her stomach. She didn't want to get off the phone. Hell, she really just wanted to see Regina and Henry right now. Pushing down the lump in her throat and trying not to get annoyed with the impatient cough behind her, Emma cleared her throat and composed herself. "I'll call you soon?" She repeated.

"I hope so."

"Bye."

"Bye, Emma. Be safe, please."

"Always."

A soft, affectionate scoff sounded from Regina's end, and for a moment, Emma thought they were about to embark in a game of you-hang-up-first, but the murmurings on Regina's end grew louder, and with another apologetic sigh, Regina hung up the phone with a low click.

She replaced her own phone on the receiver, throwing a glare at Mr. 6'5 behind her as if he was the sole reason Regina's call was cut short and made her way over to Neal and Fred.

"Work okay?" Neal asked, motioning to the card as the trio walked down the hall returning to the common room.

"Yeah, yeah it did." She looked back toward the pay phone, now occupied by Calhoun, as if Regina would be standing there waving her off.

"You meet someone back home, Swan?" Frederick asked.

The faintest hint of a smirk donned Emma's lips, but she remained quiet, entering the common room just as the red team scored the winning goal in their fooseball match.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Disclaimer in Chapter One

AN: There will be some time jumps in this chapter which is why I've dated most of the segments. I hope you guys enjoy this extra long update!

TW: warfare

June 22, 2004 - Fort Benning, Georgia

Emma swung her legs up onto the windowsill and sat against the ledge. The cord of the good phone was just shy of being taut as it stretched to reach the window where Emma leaned with her back against the pane. A wide grin spread across her face as she nodded enthusiastically at Henry who rambled on about his day.

To no one's surprise, Henry had thrown a fit when Regina regrettably told him that Emma had called and said hi. The boy's tantrum was a mixture of anger and sadness as he threw himself on the ground, stomping his feet and sputtering nonsensical words through his cries. Regina had allowed the behaviour for half a minute because in all honesty, she understood the reaction, but as soon as her internal clock hit the thirty second mark, she picked up Henry off the ground and spoke to him firmly and directly that his behaviour was not acceptable and that if he wanted to speak with Emma he would have behave politely. No sooner did the threat of not speaking to his favourite blonde leave his mother's lips did Henry stop his stomps and cries, only succumbing to small whimpers which his mother soothed away with cuddles. It broke Regina's heart to see Henry sit by the phone that night, waiting oh so patiently for it to ring, but Regina knew it wouldn't, and when she put him to bed that night, she promised he would be able to speak to Emma soon.

Emma had called the next day, this time when Henry was home, and Regina was so thankful that she wouldn't have to be made a liar to her son. For five minutes, Henry was enamoured by the blonde on the phone, asking her questions of who she had saved that day and when she was coming home. The last five, though given up with great reluctance on Henry's part, was with Regina and Emma as the younger woman supported her through stubborn council men and Regina wished her safety.

Ever since then the trio had gotten into a routine of sorts where Emma would call (from the good phone this time earning herself an extra ten minutes of Mills family time) at least once a week if she could manage. Some nights if Emma timed it correctly, she'd be able to catch them just before Henry's bedtime and after his bath. She had done it often enough that Henry began asking Emma for bedtime stories.

At first she simply listened to Regina's voice while she read Henry a part of The Paper Bag Princess where the boy would fall asleep less than halfway through, but one night Henry had been insistent, so Emma had done her best to retell The White Knight and the Evil Queen. The tale had stuck with her during her time in Storybrooke, and since it was the first one that came to mind, she had leaned herself against the wall and began telling Henry a bedtime story. She was pretty good most times to get the gist of the tale, but whenever she forgot a part, she'd exaggerate how big the dragon was or how long the Queen's heart was frozen for, and Henry – and even Regina, Emma could tell by the soft giggle – was eating it up.

Now, over a month later since they had begun their weekly phone sessions, Emma was listening as Henry sang for her the song Ms. Bell had taught the class that day. Apparently the daycare was having a summer concert at the end of August. Along with "My Little Yellow Bus" which Henry was currently belting out at the moment, they were also set to sing "You Are My Sunshine."

Emma had basically begged Regina to record that, but Henry had provided the blonde to an exclusive sneak peek of song number one.

". . .hop on board to my little yellow bus!" Henry finished. Emma laughed as Regina clapped in the background, and judging from the wet smack, she had given him a kiss on the cheek.

"That's awesome, little man," Emma cheered just as the doorbell rang at Mifflin and Regina excused herself. "I bet you're gonna be the best singer at the whole concert."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Mommy says I'm the best."

"Mommy's right. So do I get to hear the other song?"

Henry giggled, Emma imagining him shake his head adorably. "Nooo, it's a surprise."

"But I want to hear it now."

"At the concert," he insisted. "You have to wait."

Emma frowned and did her best not to sound too disappointed as she reminded the three-year old of her absence. "I won't be able to go to your concert, buddy. I have to work, but Mommy's gonna show me a video when I get back, and when I visit you again you can put on another show. Is that okay?"

"Yes!" He agreed readily. "You coming to the fair?"

"What fair?"

"The fireworks fair." If Henry had been older, Emma was sure the 'duh' would have followed soon after.

"The fireworks fair," the blonde repeated. "Does that happen to be on the Fourth of July?"

"Iunno," the boy shrugged, "but there's popcorn, and games, and, and rides, and popcorn, and cotton candy, and games, and, and-"

"And fireworks?" She asked holding back her laughter at his excitement.

"Yeah! How did you know?" He asked amazed.

"I can read minds," the blonde whispered covertly.

"Noo," he insisted. "What's in my mind?"

"Hmmm." Emma took a minute to contemplate. "Popcorn and games?"

Henry gasped obnoxiously. "How did you know?!"

"Okay, my turn." Regina's voice sounded further away though increased in volume like she was walking back into the living room.

"It's my turn, Mommy," Henry said, and judging by the shuffling of the mouth piece the kid was hogging the phone to his chest.

Regina must have set him with one of her signature warning stares that the boy was slowly becoming immune to for the line shuffled again and with a "fiiine, Mommy" Regina was in possession of the phone.

"Kid's determined," Emma noted knowingly. "Wonder where he gets that from."

"And he's only three," Regina added wryly.

"Just wait until he reaches double digits and starts talking back to you."

"I'll have you know I'm raising a fine, young gentleman," Regina said pointedly.

"Mommy!" Henry yelled so loudly he may as well have been in the same room. "I have to poo-poo!"

"Fine, young gentleman indeed," the blonde snorted.

Regina scoffed, and Emma could basically see the eye roll from the brunette as she turned to speak with Henry. "Go ahead, sweetie. You're a big boy. Call me when you're done."

"'Kay."

A sudden memory overtook the blonde as she remembered a story from Henry's baby years that Regina had written to her about, and she started to laugh. "Hey, remember when he tried to go to the bathroom by himself, and he ended up falling in the toilet?"

Regina inhaled swiftly trying with no avail to hold in her own laughter. She had been terrified when it happened, of course, but looking back on it now, she realized how ridiculously hilarious it was. "He wouldn't use the big boy potty for a month after that."

"Oh god, I wish you got pictures."

"I'm all for embarrassing my child, but I'm not that evil," Regina said wryly.

"Sure," the blonde conceded dryly. "So what have you been up to?"

"Well that was Ms. Bell at the door just now," Regina began. "She made treats for the class the other day and Henry came home raving about them, so I asked for the recipe."

"Hold up. You're close enough with Tina that she can just drop by and hand you stuff?"

"You make me sound like a hermit."

"And you're cooking someone else's recipe?" Emma asked amazed. "Geez, I've been gone for all of two months, you're already replacing me."

"Well a woman does have needs," Regina quipped throatily.

For a moment, Emma felt the bile rise to her throat from panic because it was true, and Regina was in Storybrooke and Emma was at Benning. It wasn't completely unheard of that couples broke up while one of them was in service, the distance being too much or the eye wandering too far for those left at home. She knew it was a possibility, and she knew Regina could have her pick at anyone she wanted, so the tightness grew in the blonde's throat. Regina must have heard the stifled hitch because she was quick to add on to her statement. "But don't worry, dear. Only you know my secret apple turnover recipe."

Emma snorted, the tension seeping away from her throat slowly. "Here I thought you gave all the nice blondes that recipe."

"Just you."

Emma had to turn her head toward the window to hide the impending blush that painted her cheeks. She cleared her throat, trying to seem like this brunette wasn't having an effect on her despite how light and fluffy she felt inside. "So are you guys best friends forever?"

Regina scoffed, a dismissal on her lips before she toyed. "Why? Are you jealous?"

"Completely." And it was mostly true, and even Emma could verify that.

"Not quite. I'm saving that position for someone special."

"Henry got the job, didn't he?"

"Now you make me sound like I have no friends."

"I still think you're awesome."

"And if you think so, then damn everyone else," she retorted with enough sarcasm that it didn't sound overly cheesy. "Oh, have you talked to August lately?" Regina asked suddenly.

"August?" The blonde questioned, her face scrunched up in confusion. She had written letters to him since her return, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary that raised a red flag to the blonde. "Why? What did he do?"

"I'm fairly certain he and Ms. Lucas have been communicating."

"Communicating how?" She asked curiously.

"The telephone, I believe. I overhead the beginnings of a conversation from Ms. Lucas the other day."

"I meant in what way."

"In exactly the way you are thinking," Regina said with a knowing smug tone in her voice.

"No," the blonde gasped. Ruby and August? She never really gave much thought to it, but now that it was out there, she found herself acquiescently nodding. "Ruby and August, huh. Can't believe he didn't tell me. What a dick, he kept pestering me about you."

"Oh, did he?" Regina said coyly.

"Yeah, yeah. Eat it up," the younger woman grouched.

"Also, Mr. Booth may have sprouted an admirer in Henry. The other day he asked to see Un-ca August," Regina said.

"Oh my gosh. Uncle August. He's gonna love that," the blonde laughed.

"Yes, well Henry has clearly gotten over his cyborg aversion," Regina said dryly. "Though he may be more intent on becoming Jim Hawkins if August will be his Long John Silver."

"I can be Captain Amelia and you can be the dog professor," added the blonde.

"Dr. Doppler," Regina corrected nearly sounding offended that Emma didn't know. Emma wondered who really loved the movie more, but she supposed it would grow on her too if a three-year old made her watch it four times a week. "I'm more like Captain Amelia, in fact."

"Uh, she's a sea captain and badass, and you like learning and stuff."

"Learning and stuff," Regina repeated with a laugh, "well you certainly aren't Dr. Doppler."

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, you gotta take pictures of this fair thing Henry was talking about."

"I will," Regina promised. "Do you do anything for the holiday?"

"Are you kidding? Fourth of the July? That's when we get our most patriotic. We brighten up the sky with some NRA-approved gunfire."

Regina snorted despite herself. "Are you allowed to speak like that?"

"Probably not," the blonde smirked. "But it is a big deal around here. A lot of soldiers go home for that time to celebrate with their families, but this weekend we do our big Independence Day celebration with everyone's families coming down. There's bounce houses for the kids and face painting and live shows and this giant cookout. It's actually a good time."

"That certainly beats our fireworks fair."

"No, Henry would love it," Emma imagined then added meekly. "Maybe one day you can come."

"One day," Regina repeated solemnly. Just like Emma's tone, Regina knew why that promise sounded like a far off dream.

"Well when you do," Emma said putting more chipper in her voice for emphasis, "I can finally show you my neck of the woods."

"I'd like that," Regina said happily. "All these families fly out for the event?"

"No," the blonde said with a chuckle. "Well some do, but a lot of them live on or around base. Most of them are military families. They go wherever their soldier gets deployed."

"That sounds like a lot of moving."

"You get used to it, I guess. It's nice though. It's like a community." Emma beamed at a thought. "Like Storybrooke but less low-key!"

"Oh, we don't need weapons to destroy here, soldier," Regina said darkly, her voice like velvet. "One well-spread rumour and consider your life in ruins."

"You speak from experience, Mayor Mills?" Emma asked pointedly.

"I did grow up here," she replied non-chalantly.

"You're a little scary when you're evil." The feigned tremble in her voice was enough to elicit a throaty chuckle from the brunette.

"That's why I'm Mayor–"

"You have one minute left." An automated voice interrupted Regina. Emma groaned at the message.

"Shit," she huffed into the phone, letting her head fall back with a thud against the window. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes," Regina sighed. "I can send you another one."

"Don't worry, I can stock up here."

"I suppose we'll speak another time?" Regina asked reluctantly.

The blonde released a heavy sigh. "Yeah. We will," she promised.

"I'll miss you," Regina whispered quietly.

"I–" The line cut off, and Emma was left with a dial tone and her head pressed against the glass. Shaking her head, she slid off the ledge and replaced the phone, making a beeline to the commissary.

July 4, 2004 - Storybrooke, Maine

Regina never understood the idea behind the romance of cuddling under the stars during a fireworks display. She had done it with Henry twice now. His first Fourth of July had been uneventful since there was no way she was risking blowing his eardrums at only three months, so they opted to stay home after she had dutifully opened the fair to all and watched the fireworks from their upstairs balcony. After his first birthday, Regina stayed long enough at their Independence Day Fair for Henry to watch the fireworks. His first show was spent with his face buried in his mother's shirt as his hands pressed Regina's over his ears. Only when the roman candles went off did he even think to peak at the shock of red and white in the sky. His second show last year had Henry jolting at the big finish at the end. He was so shaken by the noise he had cried a little. Now, Regina was fairly confident he could handle the full ten minutes of fireworks. Regardless, she had her earplugs for him at the ready should he need it.

Mother and son had enjoyed the fine Sunday weather as they traipsed through the courtyard of Town Hall where booths and kiosks lined the path. The nuns from St. Leopold Church were selling their candles as they did every year. Regina bit back a chuckle when Sister Astrid tripped over her own feet and spilled the box of candles she was carrying, earning her a disapproving stare from Mother Superior. Her eyebrow quirked when Leroy of all people was the first to rush out to help her out.

The Sheriff's department was set up along the north side of the courtyard where the deputies who weren't stuck on patrol duty had the honour of sitting atop the dunk tank taunting the townsfolk. Currently Deputy Nolan was striking up conversation with Mary Margaret Blanchard, much to Regina's disdain. Perhaps Regina should have warned him that his wife had purchased a ball and took aim to her target. Never mess with a former softball star, Regina noted as she caught Kathryn's eye with a cheeky grin when the ball landed squarely against the bullseye. The deputy had sputtered out water once he surfaced, throwing a sheepish grin to his wife just as that insufferable school teacher scurried away.

Their day continued, filled with a candy apple dipped in confection that resembled the American flag, a small bag of popcorn, and rides and games Henry participated in. Somehow Henry had conned his mother into going on the Ferris wheel despite her fear of heights. She was nearly having a panic attack during the entire ride, but she couldn't help but think how different it would be if Emma was there. No doubt the younger woman would be the type to rock the seat, joking about their impending doom, but she knew that if Regina gave the word, Emma would stop and wrap an arm around both Regina and Henry, protecting them from the drop or any bird poop that would land their way. The view from the top was breathtaking on its own, but if Emma was there, she knew the blonde would be struck dumb by the site. Regina had snapped a picture of the town at the top of the ride and made a mental note to send it to Emma.

Little things made Regina painfully aware that Emma was a couple states over when she should have been here, in Storybrooke, enjoying the fair. The prizes from the games had Regina imagining Emma blowing all her money just because Henry wanted that giant stuffed panda bear. She could hear a few teases from the blonde when she spotted Ruby Lucas at the kissing booth. But the fireworks show, that's when she missed Emma the most and could finally realize why it was considered so romantic to cuddle under the stars as fireworks went off in the distance.

Couples surrounded her as the night darkened quickly. That Boyd girl and her high school sweetheart's arm wrapped around her shoulder and ever growing baby bump. Kathryn and David Nolan, the latter temporarily forgiven, as they sat on lawn chairs, their fingers clasped in the middle. Even that drunk of a janitor was sharing a blanket with Sister Astrid.

But she wasn't too upset because Henry was jumping up and down in front of her, dancing to Kenny Chesney's latest playing from the overhead speakers the planning committee had set up. Her momentary pity party was immediately replaced when Henry had begun shaking his hips, screaming wildly at the country song that was going much slower than his dancing suggested.

Regina laughed as he jumped around in a circle, pausing to clap and shake his hips again. She immediately retrieved her camera to take a short video. Emma would get a load out of that. Once a few pictures were snapped, the music was cut and the lawn quieted down for the inevitable.

Henry stopped and plopped into Regina's lap as she sat in her own lawn chair. "It's starting, Mommy."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him snug against her chest. The only source of light was coming from various children's red, white, and blue glow sticks and light up flags, but it was enough to prepare them for the spectacle.

The show began, brightening up the sky in a slash of red.

July 9, 2004 - Fort Benning, Georgia

The sky lit up as bright reds, oranges, and yellows painted the night and burned when the first bomb went off.

Emma had woken mere seconds before the explosion, the different taste in the air jolting her body awake in time to brace herself when her cramped portable-like bunker shook from the residual impact. There was a moment of silence after the shock, and then like a clockwork, yelling rang from outside, and Emma rolled off her bed, strategically avoiding Neal's descending legs as he hopped off the top bunk. They moved around each other expertly, and within seconds, their helmets and boots were on, the only things they decided to discard when they turned in for a couple hours of shut eye. Grabbing their rifles, they stormed out the door only to be met with a fire engulfing the two furthest housing units along the southern path.

The furthest was destroyed. Glass everywhere. Metal, rock, and plastic littered the sand where it once stood.

Avery and Dominque were in that unit.

The second was in flames, burning from the inside out.

Johnson and Woodbridge.

Shouts sounded. A cacophony of Arabic and English curses tossed at each other. Gunfire. Lots of gunfire behind the blaze where a group of four men dressed in black came from the flames like they were born from the ashes as they carried rifles of their own, ammunition strapped to their chest and a promise in their eyes.

"Stand down!" An ally ordered, their finger ready on the trigger begging for a wrong move.

He got it. Once the four men took aim and fired, keeping the lone soldier preoccupied as he dove for cover, a fifth broke from the path. His shirt loosened and his ammunition deadly. Lethal. Ticking.

No, Emma thought as he ran along the pathway, lined by CHUs where soldiers were congregated trying to keep them back. No. One look at the bomber and they all ran. That's all they could do. Them or us.

"No," Emma said aloud as she took a step forward, lowering her gun and taking another step.

"Swan!" Neal yelled as he yanked her back.

"He's gonna die!"

Neal didn't respond. He tucked Emma's head into his chest and dragged her out of the pathway behind the units and ducked behind the sandbag encasing.

The bomb went off. Emma's ears rang. The units shook. Shots fired. Debris rained. The sky lit up in a slash of red.

Neal was moving his lips, but all Emma heard was ringing in her ears so loudly she swore she would never hear again. She didn't need her ears though. She was trained for this. She knew what to do. Just like everyone else here. The allies were threatened. Take out the enemy. They moved back to the path to find another unit closer to them destroyed to rubble. There was yelling to put out the fire. Apparently none hurt. So far.

The four men in black were scattered. One ran. Took a bullet to the shoulder and lay writhing in his own blood. Two shot back. The fourth – he ran. He ran toward them. Toward the rest of the units so fiercely he must have had a death wish. Toward Emma who was trained to grant that if she absolutely had to. Vengeance in his eyes, a weapon in his hand, and a mission in his heart, he levelled his gun. Emma shot. Square between the eyes. He fell just like the other, but this time he was limp.

The damage was done. Johnson badly burned. Woodbridge coughing up a lung. Avery and Dominique – their fate like the bomber's.

Emma stared at the man she shot, less than thirty feet from her. No hesitation. No second guessing. Take out the enemy by any means possible. She had done that. It was him or her. Jesus, it was him or her. She had to.

"Come on, Swan," Neal tugged her away, vigilant for the both of them as the two remaining men were captured and pulled to the northern end of the camp that was still intact.

But the man's eyes continue to bore into hers. The raw hatred disappeared in an instant when she had raised her gun. His eyes widened, dark brown realizing it was too late. She pulled the trigger. The pain in his eyes was brief. Faster than lightspeed and it was gone. Nothing left. No light. No life.

It was him or her. Her ears rang.

Then suddenly a swarm of people ran towards her, bombs strapped to their chests, guns, knives, and she stood there. They came from all sides and it was just her. Alone in the middle of the camp as they surrounded. The fires burning hotter, the shots sounding closer. She had to take them out. Them or her. Them or her.

Them or her.

Her ears rang when she woke up. Her palms shook. Her shirt drenched with sweat.

It was just a dream. Mostly. Emma shut her eyes to catch her breath, but the lifeless eyes swarming around her brain pushed against the inside of her skull, and she couldn't close them anymore. No, she was safe. She was . . .not home. But safe.

God, she couldn't breathe. She felt like the room was on fire. Jesus, the ringing wouldn't stop.

She sat up quickly, her gaze focused solely on the trunk by the foot of her bed. Reaching around the front, she unclasped it and grabbed the sweater on top. Storybrooke Knights. She slipped it over her head despite the humid July heat and moved the neck up to cover her face, breathing in deeply and counting to ten. She needed the sweater. Needed it more than air. And as she continued to inhale and exhale, the only thing she was breathing in was the soft cotton of the sweater, a hint of the fabric softener Regina used.

Her heart continued beating rapidly and the ringing never quite died down, but Emma felt that she could manage in the real world for just a little bit. So she removed her face from her cocoon and let her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. Bringing her knees up to her chest, Emma cradled her arms around them, tucking her face into her knees and sighed.

It's just a dream, she kept reminding herself. It's over. It can't touch you.

Not physically, Emma's pessimistic side reminded her as she felt the trigger pull beneath her finger. She had gotten commended for her work that night. God, commended for her work. Work. That's a funny word to use for it.

Reaching blindly behind her, Emma found Rex tucked underneath the sheets and brought him into the small space between her face and knees.

Rex is really good at giving hugs, and he makes the bad dreams go away, Henry had promised that morning in the airport.

Jesus, that felt like a lifetime ago. Hell, being in the sleepy town was like a dream. A blessed dream she never wanted to wake from. When she went to Storybrooke, she had no idea what she was expecting to find – her penpal, a friend – but she found more, and right now she'd kill to be– No, she just really wanted to be home right now. So she hugged Rex.

He was soft. Just as soft as the sweater, and Emma was sure Regina used the same fabric softener on him. He smelled a little like the sun since Henry liked to play with him in the backyard, but his snout was plush, and he was worn in all the right places. He was familiar. Safe. The closest thing to comfort she could find right now. And dammit, Henry was right. He gave the best hugs in the state.

She breathed in the toy and pushed aside the darkness from her mind, replacing it with a humming she hadn't realized she knew. It was the same tune Regina had sung to Henry – that Spanish lullaby mother and son had sung together as they went riding at the stables.

Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi amor, arrorró pedazo de mi corazón.

Regina's smooth, husky voice momentarily overrode the noise in her head, and with careful concentration, Emma was able to focus on Regina, sitting on a beast of a horse as she held her son to her body, helping him guide the reins. She had grinned when she sang as Henry struggled to roll his r's or get the accents just right, but she kissed his cheek nonetheless and kept singing, and it helped Emma just a little bit.

She needed more though. More than just a sweater, more than just the best hugging dinosaur ever, and more than just a pleasant memory.

Because that man she killed, that one whose life she had taken away, he was probably a father, a son, an uncle, a brother, he was something to someone and dammit, it was him or her, and she was doing what's right. He could have killed someone. Killed a lot of people. Killed someone else's son, father, brother, uncle. Killed someone's child. Their baby, their daughter, wife. But she stopped him. And she had to remember that.

Remember that it had been worth it because she saved lives. She was a hero like Henry says. A hero.

Her ears kept ringing.

July 15, 2004 - Storybrooke, Maine

"Cocoa powder?"

"Check."

"Powdered sugar?"

"Check."

"Powdered milk?"

"Why it like this?" Henry picked up the box and asked for the second time with a disgusted look on his face.

"We can't send Emma a jug of milk now, can we?" Regina explained, taking note that she had the ingredient.

"Where the straw go?" He asked genuinely confused, examining the top and looking for a straw hole like in his juice box.

Regina grinned and shuffled the grocery cart along as Henry continued staring at the box contemplatively. "It's a different type of milk. One that won't spoil quite as easily."

He furrowed his brows, still unsure of this contraption his mother called milk before dropping it in the cart behind him and reaching to grab his favourite pick up of the day. "And we gots these!"

A bag of mini multicoloured marshmallows was clutched firmly in tiny hands as Henry grinned widely at his mother, no doubt concocting ways to sneak a treat.

"Yes, that is a very important ingredient. Emma can't have her hot chocolate without some marshmallows."

He nodded quickly in agreement, though Regina was sure it was just to speed things along. "Can I have one?" He squinted one eye and held up a finger in hopeful persuasion.

Regina sighed, barely containing the urge to roll her eyes. "I've no idea where you get your sweet tooth from."

"I'm sweet," he grinned innocently though by now it bordered on mischievous.

This time she did roll her eyes with an affectionate shake of her head. "Sweet you may be, but you are still not allowed a marshmallow."

He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

"Nice try," Regina acknowledged as she continued her way down the baking aisle, picking up a package of chocolate pudding mix, Nesquick, and powdered creamer.

Regina had received a letter from Emma that day, and though she was ecstatic to hear from the blonde since the last time they had spoken on the phone was during Emma's Independence Day celebration, she was upset by what Emma had told her. Her nightmares were back, and though Emma said nothing more than: I've been having trouble sleeping. I really miss talking with you; Regina knew that the blonde was haunted by something she wasn't ready to share.

It pained Regina to receive that letter partly because Emma had written it six days ago, so who knew what her condition was like or if she was over it. That was another in Regina's list of things that was difficult about snail mail. The distance between events made them over and done with as soon as the letter was put into the mailbox. But moreso, Regina felt utterly and totally useless. Before when erratic groaning and mumblings from her guest bedroom woke her up, she was able to check on Emma, sit on the edge of the bed and sooth her back to reality where they would sit and talk – sometimes of her dreams, but sometimes Emma begged for a distraction so Regina would lead the younger woman by the hand down the stairs and put on a pot, making hot cocoa just for Emma. By the second nightmare Regina was already pre-emptively putting whipped cream and cinnamon on the drink. But now, as she sat in Storybrooke reading about how Emma was losing sleep to her unforgiving mind, Regina didn't know what to do.

But she was Mayor after all, so within a moment she had come up with a plan. Hence, the sudden grocery trip and visit down the baking and kitchenware aisle. If Regina couldn't be there to be Emma's dream catcher than perhaps she could make the morning after more pleasant and easier to bear. Hopefully her plan would work out since she wasn't entirely familiar with the more creative items she could send to those in service. She had to think on her feet a little once she realized she'd have to modify her hot chocolate recipe in order to accommodate the trip to base, but she was fairly certain the flavours combined would make an excellent hot cocoa. It was the packaging that had her at a standstill for a moment until she got to the kitchen aisle and found the perfect container.

A plastic jar similar to a mason jar would do the trick already imagining the layers of cocoa and sugar and marshmallows with a dash of cinnamon on the top. She'd have to bubble wrap it just in case, but hopefully it wouldn't be considered contraband items. The last thing she wanted was for Emma to get in trouble.

"Henry," Regina scolded when a crinkling got her attention. Henry had twisted his torso in his seat and was trying to bite open the marshmallow bag.

"Pleeaase?" He asked as politely as he could.

Regina shook her head and removed his grip on the bag, placing the marshmallows at the furthest end of the cart beside the newly acquired jar. Raising an eyebrow indicating that this was Henry's final warning, she moved to her purse to fish out his juice box and a baggie of arrowroot cookies. "Trade?" She enticed holding up the offering.

"Yes!" He held up his hands in a gimme gesture and immediately popped the plastic straw up, taking a healthy swig. "Thank you, Mommy."

"You are welcome, sweetie." She kissed his forehead and moved to turn the cart around. "We just have to get Emma's tea and we'll go home–"

"Oh, sorry!" Kathryn Nolan, basket in hand, nearly collided into Regina as the brunette swung her cart.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Nolan, I didn't see you there," Regina apologized politely and maneuvered her cart around the blonde.

"Please, Regina, you can call me Kathryn, you know," she said meeting the Mayor's gaze.

Regina broke contact for a split second, remembering the days when she had called her Kathryn, Kat actually, back when they were younger and she had still been Kathryn Ouro and she Regina Mills, two teenagers stressing about school and sharing stories about crushes, more like secrets on Regina's part, but that had been a lifetime ago.

Like everyone else, she had pushed Kathryn away after her parents' deaths and secluded herself from everything and everyone. She had made a name for herself as she devoted herself to her studies and ambitions, graduating with honours from Harvard and retreating back to her hometown to become its youngest Mayor. Her emotional distance from others made her focus on the town, and when she decided to adopt Henry, it was a toss-up whether her claws extended or retracted, depending on the boy's presence in the given situation. Regardless, she had history with the woman before her, so she smiled a touch more genuinely and nodded.

"You're right, Kathryn. How have you been?" She asked in her mayoral tone.

"Good, I've been doing good. I've made partner at my father's law firm."

"Congratulations." Regina smiled sincerely, offering her old friend a brief squeeze on the arm.

"I haven't talked to you lately," Kathryn said taking a step toward the cart to smile at Henry who had a half melted arrowroot in his mouth. "Do you remember me from the fair? My husband gave you that super cool tattoo."

Henry chewed quickly and rushed to swallow in his need to answer. "Yeah!" He nodded in recognition. "The police off-cer gave me the flag like my flag."

The two women chuckled at his vagueness though to him it had made perfect sense. Deputy Nolan, after his shift on dunk tank duty, had spotted Henry's US flag pin on his shirt and high-fived the three-year old, giving him a temporary tattoo to match which Kathryn had helped to stamp on his cheek. Regina hadn't said much to the couple then, far too preoccupied with Henry's barely contained excitement so his mother could send a picture of it to Emma right then and there, but clearly the memory stuck with the boy.

"How is David?" Regina asked, not quite used to small talk that held no greater purpose than to catch up.

"Fine," Kathryn noted with a tight-lipped smile that Regina had an inkling about the reason behind it.

"Well, he is keeping our streets safe."

Kathryn half-snorted half-chuckled. "Not quite like your Emma though."

"I'm sorry?" Regina spat out blindsided by the blonde's bluntness. Then again, Kathryn had always been like that, so Regina really shouldn't have been surprised.

"Emma, she's military, right? I never got the chance to officially meet her, but everyone says she's great."

"Yes," Regina nodded what would be bashfully if her mayoral mask hadn't been in place. "She's. . ."

"Awesome!" Henry piped up, throwing his hands in the air.

Regina laughed out loud, forgetting her company and shaking her head at her sometimes too adorable son. He was like a sponge most times, and clearly he had picked up some of Emma's catch phrases. There was a twinkle in Kathryn's eye when Regina's laughter died down and they had made eye contact again. One she hadn't seen in thirteen years that typically meant mischief and knowledge.

"What?"

Kathryn shook her head. "It's really great to see you two getting out more often. I heard you're riding again."

Regina scoffed. "This town is too small."

"Well you did come back to it."

"Yes, well, I'm starting to regret that."

Kathryn smiled that knowing smile again, glancing briefly at Henry and more intently at Regina. "I really think you aren't."

"Look," Henry announced, his juice and crumby bag deposited beside him as he held up the marshmallow bag that Regina had no idea how he had gotten. She swore her son had magic of some sort since he was so stealthy with his movements when he wanted to be. "These for Emma. Mommy said they not for me, right Mommy?"

"Right," Regina agreed, not falling for his attempt at a guilt trip in front of company. "We'll rot Emma's teeth so that Henry can have the best smile."

Regina once again confiscated the bag of confections and this time buried it under the sunflower seeds and granola bars. She began pushing the cart to head to the tea aisle and didn't mind the slightest when Kathryn walked alongside her.

"Are you making a care package?" Kathryn asked, eyeing the cart of mismatched items.

Regina nodded. "We tend to send one every couple months and on her birthday and Christmas. I believe her brother will be sending her a Discman for her birthday, though that's supposed to be a surprise.

"I'll be sure not to mention anything in my next conversation with her," Kathryn quipped. They turned into Regina's desired aisle where she immediately picked up a fresh can of raspberry mint tea and placed it in the cart. Just in case the cocoa fell through, Regina was certain that the tea would reach Emma.

"I don't know how you do it," Kathryn commented cautiously as they made their way to the check out. At Regina's raised eyebrow, Kathryn explained. "I get so worried whenever David gets called in for whatever disturbance. He seems to get called in a lot, and we live in Storybrooke. I just can't imagine what it must feel like. . ."

Regina kept her head forward, deeming this conversation too personal too soon, but Kathryn continued on, either oblivious or ignoring Regina's closed off behaviour.

"Aren't you scared something's going to happen to her?" Kathryn asked suddenly, stopping to face her old friend.

"Emma is a good soldier," Regina insisted though the statement was like a mantra, a reaffirming cause that Regina told herself every day.

"I don't doubt it," Kathryn rushed to explain. "You just, never know–"

"I know that whatever happens in the field, she's going to come back," Regina insisted with finality. "Now if you'll excuse me."

With a determined push, Regina steered the cart into a free cash and began unloading her groceries onto the belt, keeping her back to Kathryn.

"Regina," Kathryn pleaded, but instead he brunette turned her attention to Henry who had started using his empty juice container as a makeshift rocketship.

Sighing, Kathryn mustered a smile for Henry and departed from the family with a quiet 'goodbye' she was sure Regina heard and only acknowledged with the tiniest dip of her chin.

Regina wouldn't let Kathryn's words affect her despite them taking turns being the voice of reason in their youth, but this time Kathryn was wrong. Regina was a worrier, and though she knew the risks and the realities of Emma's life, for once she was having faith.

Regina had done well, all things considering, keeping that faith promise she had made to herself, but reality slapped her in the face on the first day of August when she and Henry had returned to town from their morning at the stables. She had signed Henry up for junior riding lessons shortly after Emma's departure, and Henry had successfully finished his fourth lesson of the program with Regina beside his pony, a protective hand on his back while a determined look adorned his face.

It had been a good day since Henry's form had improved from the previous week's lesson most likely due to the fact that Henry had started to use the arm rest of nearly every couch as his makeshift horse to practice. When Regina had caught him doing that she yelled out in fear making Henry jump and fall over, thankfully onto the cushioned couch and not her hardwood flooring.

With Henry sufficiently riled, Regina thought they could make a quick stop at Granny's for a strawberry milkshake reward before swinging back home to get some swimming gear. At eleven in the morning, it was already proving to be a scorcher that day, and with tourist season gradually coming to a close, the beach wouldn't be as populated as the previous weeks.

Entering the diner, Henry raced to the counter and immediately started to climb up on a barstool, getting that final nudge from his mother as she gave his bottom a light push to get his legs up onto the chair. Eagerly grabbing the triangular dessert menu Granny kept by every salt and pepper shaker holder, Henry mulled over which shake he wanted as Regina stood beside him, an arm wrapped around him and resting on the counter to keep him from falling off.

"Good morning, Madam Mayor," Ruby greeted before leaning on her elbows to catch Henry's eyes under his bangs. "Good morning to you too, handsome."

"Morning, Miss Ruby," Henry replied in a sing-song voice.

"How are the Millses today?" The waitress asked, straightening her back.

"Mommy letting me get a milkshake 'cause I'm the best," Henry announced smugly.

"Well if that's the reason, you should be having a milkshake every day," Ruby said pointedly.

"Yeah!" Henry nodded his agreement and looked to his mother who was glaring at Ruby, though it was with less hostility and more annoyance.

"Henry has been doing well in his horse riding lessons," Regina affirmed to both the smirking waitress and hopeful son.

"Atta boy," Ruby held up her hand, and Henry reared up onto his knees to connect with a resounding smack. "One strawberry milkshake with a cherry on top coming right up. Anything for you, Madam Mayor?"

"No, thank you, that will be all."

When the waitress left, Henry had busied himself with a paper place mat and a few crayons Ruby had left in her stead while Regina took the seat next to him, hand still on his back as she focused on the television in the upper corner of the diner repeating the 6 AM news.

It was then she felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach as the ruins of a desert plain smoked on the screen before minimizing to a small rectangle and moved to the corner background of the coverage as the anchorwoman spoke mutely.

"Ruby," Regina found herself calling out quickly. "Ruby."

The brunette jogged over as quickly as she could in her stiletto heels. "Change your mind on that order?"

"Turn up the volume."

Ruby didn't have to be told twice as she followed Regina's gaze to the television and immediately walked to it, standing on her tippy toes to reach the button.

"–two US soldiers gravely injured after a patrol gone wrong. Around eleven last night, a group of eight United States soldiers were patrolling what reports have generally called a quiet stretch of land located in the outskirts of Baghdad when one fatal step activated a hidden landmine causing a chain reaction and decimating over five hundred yards of land. Six have been confirmed dead while two received life-threatening injuries. Our prayers are with the soldiers and their families."

Regina gasped as her eyes shifted uneasily from anchorwoman to footage, her heart beat flooding her ears. Please don't be Emma. Please don't let it be Emma.

The news broadcast cut to the head shots of the victims, and Regina waited with bated breath as each picture passed. First a stern looking man with a strong jaw. Major Gregory. Next a dark skinned man with a stoic expression. Lieutenant Powell.

Regina's breath caught when she caught a shock of blonde hair with the next picture. The fact that it was a woman – Sergeant Nichols – did nothing to stop Regina from gasping out loud and making her heart nearly stop.

The next five that passed seemed to take longer than the last. Michaels. Whitmore. Fung. Morello. Nguyen.

"They will all be commemorated on Tuesday following a memorial for friends and family of the victims."

The segment ended with a final shot of a waving United States flag before the program cut to an interview with a General stationed in Iraq offering as much inside information as possible, but Regina had stopped listening.

Her eyes shut tightly, and the only thing her conscious could conceive was the fact that Emma was okay. She swallowed the tight lump in her throat, realizing she was standing when Henry tugged on the hem of her shirt, a quarter of his strawberry shake already gone.

"Mommy, look." He blew into his straw and laughed when bubbles popped to the surface.

Usually Regina would scold him for such unruly manners, but it was the last thing on her mind as she struggled to accept the relief that should be overwhelming her. It wasn't Emma. Emma was fine. Regina, however, was shaken. The fear that someone she cared for was gone was too great and too real.

"Regina?" Ruby breached cautiously. "Emma's not deployed. She's still state-side," the younger woman reminded her taking careful steps closer to the counter.

Regina blinked and, dear god, the waitress was right. Emma was still in Benning, fixing up weapons and helping with training. She was nowhere near the Middle East, and nowhere near untracked landmines. Slowly she turned her head and swallowed again to regain her composure, facing Ruby and nodding. "Yes," she said finding her voice. "Yes she is."

Fort Benning, Georgia

August 1 2004

Emma,

I just need to make sure you're okay. I know your days have been busy lately, I just need to know.

I saw what happened on the news in Baghdad. I don't know if you knew any of them, but I'm so sorry. It's terrible, and I feel awful for their families. They said one of the injured soldiers didn't make it, and the other is still fighting. We're holding our own little ceremony and having a moment of silence for them.

I don't mean to damper your day. I just need to hear from you. Just be careful. Come home safely.

Regina

Emma ran a hand through her hair and leaned back against the wall of her bed, silently empathizing with Regina. It was a brief message and quite to the point, but they had exchanged enough letters to know that Regina was going out of her mind with worry, and though she'd never admit it to Emma, relief. Relief that it wasn't Emma, relief that the signature telegram that had made the strongest of housewives tremble at their feet during the world wars had skipped past Regina's door and landed on someone else's.

As much as she loved August, she really wished she hadn't spent the last of her minutes teasing him about Ruby earlier that day since she desperately needed a quicker way to let Regina know she was fine. The commissary was closed since Emma hadn't gotten back to her barrack until close to eleven, and though she could probably borrow Neal's cell phone, that would raise too many questions and she had just gotten him off her back. Instead, Emma crawled to the foot of her bed, opening her trunk and pulling out her stationary kit.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room as she scurried back to the head of her bed as quietly as possible, grabbing The Green Mile from the nightstand and using it as a table as she scribbled on the lined paper.

August 9 2004

Hey,

I'm okay. I'm still here.

Yeah, I saw that too. It was the only thing we talked about for days. We had a memorial service last week and stopped training and work for the day.

Nichols has a husband in the marines, and Morello's brother just left for a tour in Syria, and I don't know if they even know what happened yet.

Isn't that crazy? You're doing your own job which is hard enough as it is, and halfway across the world your wife or your brother is dead. They were just doing a routine patrol. I've done that route a million times. That could have been

Emma paused letting her head hit the wall as she thought about the accident not for the first time. Casualties of war were a hazard of the job, but whenever Emma was training, in combat, hell, even when she was dreaming, if she were to die in service, she imagined it guns ablazing as fantastical as that sounded. But stepping on a landmine? There was no chance. No warning. Just one second you're there and the next you're not.

She imagined it a lot actually. Wondered what was going through their heads, what they were talking about. Did they even know their fate when the first mine went off or was it too fast for them to comprehend? Too many questions ran through her head when she thought about it too much.

Looking down at her letter, she scratched out the last bit and calculated when Regina would probably get it. Most likely a week from now. Less than two if the postal office wasn't busy. So for three weeks until that letter would come, Regina would be in a panic.

She didn't want to wait to hear from Regina. She didn't want to keep Regina waiting any longer. Make it the right time, August had once said. Regina had said it too, and it led to the best thing that could have ever happened to Emma.

Fuck it, she thought as she got out of bed, book and letter discarded on the nightstand, to creep three cots over to where Neal was sleeping, flat on his back, his head tilted to the right as he snored softly. If she pulled this off, this would be one for the history books as she crouched by his bed and slid his folded pair of cargos he kept under there toward her. Emma used to silently make fun of the guy for keeping his phone on him all the time, calling his girlfriend turned wife whenever he got a free minute, but now she knew why and sympathized.

Making a mental note to get a cell phone when she went back home, Emma found Neal's easily, tucked in his pocket, turned off for the night. She replaced his pants back under the bed and tip toed back to her own, wonderfully making no noise as she lay with her back to the rest of the team and kept her pillow over her head for extra privacy and a little muffling.

She flipped open the phone, pleased that it hadn't made a sound when she turned it on. Regina's number came easily to her fingers as she pressed on the number pad and put the phone to her ear. The message warning her about long-distance charges only halted her for a second when she realized her plan wasn't entirely flawless. She had done this much, anyway. Might as well go all the way. But really, she just needed to hear Regina's voice and damn the consequences.

The phone rang quietly in the dead of the night and Emma realized that maybe Regina wouldn't even answer. Her efforts would be wasted and she wouldn't hear from Regina until sometime this week if she had the time.

"Hello?" Regina's husky, sleep-ridden voice broke through the line, and Emma swore it was the best sound in the world.

"Hey," Emma whispered watery, a soft bristle she wasn't even sure she heard herself.

"Emma?" From the rustling on the phone, Emma could tell Regina had sat up frantically, most likely clutching the phone to her as she reached over to turn on her nightstand lamp, no doubt catching the time on her alarm clock to see the late hour. "Emma, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

The habitual I'm fine was on the tip of her tongue, wanting to reassure the older woman, but she shook her head. "I'm kinda going crazy missing you."

A sad yet pleased chuckle sounded throatily from Regina as the brunette sighed, the tension leaving her from that one exhale. "Yes, well, I'm sure you can tell I've gone a little frantic myself."

"Just a little bit," the blonde joked before taking a breath and levelling the steadiness in her voice. "But I'm okay. Just long days."

"Good," Regina said so definitively that god help anyone if Emma wasn't okay.

"You and the kid?"

"We're doing well. We miss you."

"Good," the blonde said softly but just as intently.

They let the silence surround them, content to pretend that Emma was in Boston for the weekend, visiting August and that she'd be back soon, or that Regina had to go out of town for some political business and Emma was watching Henry waiting for her to come home. It was only a minute, a minute of blessed imagination before the air turned and both women knew. Their time was up.

"I. . ."

"I know."

"I'll call you as soon as I can," Emma promised.

"I'll send you another jar of cocoa."

The blonde groaned in want. "You're a godsend."

Regina chuckled then sighed. "Good night, Emma."

"Night."

September 13, 2004 - Fort Benning, Georgia

Emma squinted at the small box in her lap filled with styrofoam peanuts and a VHS tape. On the inside of the box was August's writing, nothing more than what Emma could only possibly describe as a smug You're Welcome. There was no card or any other form of instruction, and for some reason Emma was a little frightened. Though August was serious when he had to be, Emma knew him better than that and knew if he could get away with being foolish he would.

Luckily for Emma, she had commandeered the smaller common room that had the working VCR player for herself and sat in a metal folding chair in front of the ancient box television. Pulling out the tape and slipping it into the player, Emma sat back in her chair and hit play on the remote.

The screen came to life, black at first before a flash of green appeared so quickly Emma almost blinked at the suddenness. Digital orange numbers were permanently etched in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen, boasting the date of 08/31/04, as the camera blurred from the green of the grass to a mass of meshed colour before it finally settled on August as the man had the camera turned on himself. He winked with a smirk, and Emma squinted wondering what the hell he had gotten into now.

The video blurred again until it settled on the outside of a building. Almost instantly Emma recognized it as Henry's daycare. August was in the back where the kids went out to play. What the hell was he doing there? Oh shit, what the hell was he doing in Storybrooke?

If she wasn't holding her breath then, she was now when at the left side of the camera she caught just the outline of a familiar brunette, cropped locks and made up face. Regina. Then a horde of kids came out in the brightest shade of yellow Emma had ever seen, and as the camera zoomed in, blurry at first before focusing steadily on a yellow little thing with a mop of brown hair, Emma realized. It was Henry's summer concert.

Her eyes watered as she leaned forward in her seat where Henry beamed at her from the TV.

The familiar thick New Zealand accent that was Tina Bell sounded off camera before August panned out again to show the entire class and their teacher.

"Our toddler class would like to welcome you to our summer concert this year," Tina said excitedly as a string of clapping sounded from the audience. She turned toward the toddlers and nodded.

"Good mor-ning par-ents and friends!" They yelled at the top of their lungs, earning them laughter as they beamed at their job well done. Most of the kids had proceeded to find their parents, waving at them or taking steps toward them before other teachers helped them remember to stay still.

"We've got a couple of songs for you today, so we hope you enjoy them." Tina walked to the edge of the grass, a few feet from where the audience began and sat cross-legged on the ground. Motioning to a teacher in the back, music began playing as the camera zoomed back closer to Henry.

"Well the sun comes up and the rooster crows! I get out of bed and put on my clothes! Today's gonna be a most spectacular day!" He belted out 'My Little Yellow Bus' as he danced along to the choreography Tina had shown the class.

Emma was grinning from ear to ear as she watched him sing and thought back to their phone conversations where he had performed it for her. No doubt the kid was doing the moves he could while on the phone – pretending to drive a bus, waving for friends to hop on board, and his adorable attempt at whistling as they were "whistling along in my little yellow bus."

A kid was crying off camera and several of them weren't even singing while the others had half-heartedly attempted the dance moves, but Henry was giving it his all. When the song ended, Emma wanted to clap along with the audience, but she felt the moisture in her eyes tip over her lids and used her index to wipe them away.

"Go, Henry!" August's gruff voice sounded behind the camera.

The audience quieted down again for the next song to play. The beginning bars of "You Are My Sunshine" started to sound and Emma finally noticed that the kids had their hands behind their backs. When they started to sing, a paper plate painted yellow with yellow and orange triangles glued around the edges were revealed to be the mystery, but the best part was the picture in the middle. Henry's had a picture of Regina, and no doubt the other kids had pictures of their parents as they sang loudly: "You are my sunshine! My only sunshine! You make me happy! When skies are grey!"

The audience awed in adoration as they continued to sing, swaying their suns to and fro. Emma laughed as the song moved from the chorus to the verse where the kids started to lose momentum and began to mutter, though she noticed that Tina must have rewrote the song a bit to make it more appropriate. The chorus returned and the kids sang loudly again as one and repeated until the song died down. A collective applause came from the audience before the camera blacked out.

Emma sat in her chair grinning widely as a steady tear streamed down her face. God, the ache in her chest pounded so hard it made her feel numb. She wanted to see him there in the flesh so badly. She wanted to be the one sitting next to Regina, holding the camera and embarrassing Henry with applause and hollers.

She shook her head, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand before leaning forward in her chair to stop the tape.

The screen crackled again and she paused, sitting back down and squinting.

Henry was running across the lawn after what looked to be the end of the concert, his sunshine craft swinging in his hand as he ran straight into Regina's embrace. Emma's breath caught in her throat when she saw Regina for the first time in nearly five months. Judging by the Mayor's designer jeans and button up, Regina had taken the day off from work to see her son's concert, and Emma's heart swelled with a painful longing.

"Did you see me, Mommy?!" Henry jumped up and down when Regina released him.

The brunette remained crouched by his level and clapped her hands once in excitement. "Of course, I did, sweetie! You did so well."

"Hey, buddy," August said from behind the camera.

Henry smiled up at August and was already swinging his hand towards August's for a high-five that the man met. "You see me, Un-ca August?" He repeated his question, unfazed by the rolling camera.

"You were great, kid. Say hi to Emma for me."

"Where?" Henry looked behind him then to his mother confused.

Regina held Henry to her front and pointed up towards the camera.

"Hi Emma!" Henry waved excitedly with his sunshine-holding hand. "You see me, Emma?"

"Yeah, she's going to," August explained with a chuckle. "Come here, kid."

Henry went, and the camera shifted before the screen was filled with August and Henry's heads pressed together. "Say I miss you."

"I miss you!"

"Say I love you."

"I love you!" Emma bit her lip, trying to contain her grin but allowed it show without much of a fight.

"Say Mommy loves you."

"Mommy loves you!" Emma rolled her eyes, especially when August's eyebrows rose just a little bit to show how pleased he was with himself.

"Say Uncle August loves you."

"Un-ca August loves you!"

"Say I'm the best."

"I'm the best."

"No, I'm the best," August clarified.

"I'm the best," Henry giggled, insistent. He squirmed out of August's arms and ran to Regina who had stood and glanced shyly at the camera, the sun shining right behind her making her glow. Emma smiled. The Mayor could hold press conferences in front of grumpy, old, men and make them feel two inches tall with just a glare, and she could use her words to talk circles around lawyers, but in that moment, Regina simply looked like a mother, camera shy and pleased as Henry swung her arms around. "Right, Mommy?"

"You're the best," Regina confirmed.

"You got something to say to Emma?" August enticed, but to Emma it sounded like goading.

Regina glared at him for a moment before bending down to swing Henry onto her hip. She stared at the camera begrudgingly for half a second, the conflict clear to Emma before it lifted and brown eyes softened. Regina squeezed Henry to her and smiled softly at the camera. "Hi, soldier," she said quietly to the camera as August zoomed in so it was just Henry and Regina's face filling the screen. "We wish you were here. Stay safe and visit again soon."

The slow, controlled words Regina spoke had Emma knowing she was making great effort not to say too much or sound more than a friend than she actually was. It was painful in the worst way. She was there, Emma could see Regina, but it wasn't completely her, and god, it sucked. It seemed Regina felt the same for she looked down for the briefest of moments before smiling softly again, nudging Henry with her cheek. "Say goodbye to Emma, dear."

He waved happily to the camera. "Bye, Emma!"

"We'll see you soon, Emma," Regina promised.

The camera shifted back to August, and the man winked. "Be good, kid."

The screen cut out for good this time, and Emma was left sitting in the viewing room, her eyes shut and a flurry of emotion rushing through her. How could she be so ridiculously happy and so, so sad at the same time? Her head dropped to her hands, smiling at how Henry had jumped eagerly into his songs, how August had gone to such an effort to send Emma a tape, and how Regina looked so goddamn pretty it was insane.

Christ, she didn't ever think she'd be homesick this much. It was like all the years Emma moved from foster home to foster home made up for the fact that the overwhelming feeling of absolutely needing to go back home struck her so hard she couldn't even think straight.

But god, Henry was cute singing those songs. She'd have to have a word with both Regina and August though. When did they become so chummy-chummy? Emma had to admit, she kind of liked the idea that he approved of Regina and that he'd taken up his role as Uncle August eagerly. She bet he had Henry calling him that all day.

Wow, Emma thought as she leaned back in her chair. They were her family.

She exhaled and leaned her elbows on her knees in dumbstruck realization. Wow. Her family was pretty damn awesome.

September 22, 2004 - Fort Benning, Georgia

Emma nodded as she dropped in her latest letter to Regina into the outgoing box and turned sharply to exit out of the mail room. She had about an hour to kill before dinner, and that hot cocoa was calling her name. As she exited the mail room and turned toward the servery, Emma nearly collided right into Neal.

"Woah." Emma narrowly avoided him and sidestepped, but he grabbed her forearm more tightly than she was ready for. She paused and instinctively ripped her arm back, putting distance between herself and Neal as the man towered over her. "What?"

"Can we talk?" He whispered as he approached, though Emma took a step back.

"About what?"

A crowd of people walked between them, and Emma thought for a second that she could get lost in them, but she wasn't a coward, and she was more than a little curious to see what he wanted.

Neal motioned his head back to their empty barracks where the rest of their team were either in the common rooms, showers, or at their MOS. It was rare for their room ever to be empty, and clearly Neal was taking advantage of that.

He shut the door behind them, and all this mystery had Emma's stomach in knots. She took a defensive pose in the middle of the room, hands on her hips and raised eyebrow as she looked questioningly at the man. "So?"

He dug into his pocket and produced his cell phone. Emma didn't react. Made no movement that she had any idea what he was thinking about. But she knew he knew, and she had no idea how this was going to end up.

"You know, you may have record for some petty thefts, Swan, but you're pretty terrible at clearing your tracks. You didn't think me or Tamara would see the bill or anything?"

"What are you talking about, Cassidy?" The blonde evaded.

He scoffed and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. "Come off it, Ems. I know you called Maine."

"I didn't call anyone."

He advanced toward her slowly. "Really," he deadpanned. "A forty-two second call to Maine at 1:36 in the morning wasn't from you?"

"Pocket dial?" Emma guessed.

"Bullshit." In all the years she'd known the man, Neal had never taken that tone with her. He ran a hand over his head and huffed. "I'm trying to help you here, Swan. I can't do that if you keep lying to me."

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him. "I don't know what you think I need help with, but I can take care of myself."

Her hand was on the door when Neal spoke. "You're getting sloppy. Tip toeing at one in the morning to steal my phone? The tape from August was a nice touch, but I could read between the lines as soon as she came on screen and so can half the guys here. You're lucky I closed the door and stood guard."

Emma turned slowly as Neal slammed her with a pleading puppy dog look to listen.

"I'm not–" Emma tried to deny one more time, but Neal interrupted. "You're saying her name in your sleep sometimes."

Her veins chilled like ice water had been injected into them. A lump formed in her throat, and she crossed her arms over her chest in protection.

"I don't think anyone heard. That's why I've been chucking socks at you in your sleep," he explained bashfully.

"Seriously?" She squinted. "I thought you were being a jackass."

"I was being nice," he defended haughtily then smirked. "The first time."

Emma shook her head and walked further into the room, crossing the length to reach her bunk and slump down hard.

"Hey," he said following her to the opposed cot. "It's okay."

But it wasn't. She'd get dishonourably discharged, and a note like that would make her a pariah for the rest of her life. What awful thing did Corporal Swan do to get kicked out of the army? Love a woman. Oh. She swallowed hard.

"Emma," Neal said gently and ducked his head to meet Emma's gaze. "When I said you can trust me three years ago, I meant it. I'm not going to tell anyone. Just letting you know so that you can be more careful. Not everyone is as great as I am."

She wanted to roll her eyes, but she knew it was true. She knew personally of a few homophobic officers on base and even in her division. Sometimes they wouldn't discharge you; sometimes they'd let you fend for yourself as an outed soldier.

"When did you know?" Emma asked quietly, refusing to make eye contact.

He shrugged. "Just took a wild guess."

"What?" She asked incredulously.

"I had a feeling."

"One day, your feeling's gonna get you killed."

He shrugged again. "You just look crazy happy every time you get a letter or make a call," he explained. "In case you're wondering, you have enough pictures of dudes on your wall to cover it up."

She bit her lip in worry. On one hand, it felt nice to have an ally, someone she knew she could count on to talk to about anything. On the other hand, she was paranoid everyone knew. She never took Neal to be extremely perceptive, so if he knew who else did?

"Hey," he called again, this time nudging her with his boot. "If you ever need to call again, you're welcome to use my phone."

Her lips parted in shock at the sudden generosity of the man. "Neal, that's– I can't."

"I'm in a good mood, Swan, so take the offer before it leaves the table," he said with a smug grin.

She scoffed lightly and shook her head incredulously then nodded. "Okay," she conceded. "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He leaned back on the bed, his hands behind his head as he continued to grin. "Now that that's out of the way, aren't you gonna ask me why I'm in such a good mood?"

Leave it to Neal to downplay her coming out secret and overshadow it with news of his own. Still, she appreciated the man even more after these past ten minutes she almost wished she had been a bit more accommodating in the friendship department sooner. "Why are you in such a good mood?" She finally asked.

Somehow his grin grew wider. "I'm gonna be a father."

"What?"

"Yeah," he laughed sitting up to face Emma again. "Tamara's a little over three months." He dug through his pocket again to pull out a small rectangular picture. An ultrasound. "She sent that to me today, and I called her right after."

"Oh my god, Neal, congratulations!" Emma was never really a hugger, but he was her friend, that much he had proven, so she leaned over and wrapped her arms around the man briefly in support. "God, you a dad."

"I know," he nodded. "Christ, I hope I don't mess it up."

She smiled fondly at him. "You'll be a great dad."

"Swan. Cassidy." Officer Watson opened the door and called for them. They stood immediately and faced him, awaiting orders. "Meeting room. Now."

They didn't wait to march out of the room and follow him into the meeting room where the rest of their unit was waiting, standing at attention and facing a Commanding Officer who stood in front of a map. As soon as she walked in, Emma knew. She was going back.

AN: The song Regina was singing is 'Arroro Mi Nino'. Also, youtube has failed me and I cannot find a clip of 'My Little Yellow Bus' by Judy and David, but I assure you, that song was awesome.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: Opinions stated by particular characters throughout the chapter are not reflective of my own views. There's quite a bit of military in this chapter so any inaccuracies or mistakes are entirely my fault.

TW: warfare

September 30, 2004 – Baghdad, Iraq – Camp Victory

It felt hotter than Emma remembered. The air was dry and so humid she felt like she was suffocating. Her gear wasn't helping her in the slightest, heavy and constricting, weighing her down, but she was at least used to the familiar weight. This heat took some getting used to, and all it served to do was remind Emma what it was like the last time she had been here.

The twenty-four hour flight in the jet was simultaneously the shortest and longest trip of her life. The first time she had flown to Iraq for service, there had been nervousness, yes, anxiety even. But as uncertain as she had been, there was a hint of what one might call excitement. She was finally doing what she had been training for. She was going to represent her country, her people. She was going to be one of those soldiers all those songs sang about, be a hero.

But not now. Now she wanted nothing more than to be anywhere but here. They could have sent her anywhere in the world, but apparently her expertise was what got her picked. If she was anyone else – Emma the traveller, Emma the criminal on the run even – anyone but Corporal Swan reporting for duty – she would have loved to visit Baghdad. The people, the culture-shock, the landscape. It was beautiful when she was able to go into the city and visit the markets. Of course, some people were wary of her especially since she was perpetually in her uniform and carried an automatic rifle, but they were good people. She'd feel the same if she had people in uniform marching down her streets acting like she was a convicted criminal. But most times, they made it work with the locals.

A lot of the times a few troops would give little toys and knick-knacks to the children there, and she swore she felt like Santa and could understand why the fabled old man continued to keep giving. Their smiles were contagious as they showed them how they kicked around a soccer ball with their friends. Sometimes Emma would even help rebuild school houses and buildings that fell under attack. Alongside the civilians, American and Iraqi would unite to progress toward the better as each brick of the foundation was laid upon the ground.

That part, that part of the job Emma loved. But the part she was more familiar with, the part that sometimes kept her up at night when she refused to close her eyes, the reason why she was here in the first place since it was expertise, that she could do without.

Recon had tracked areas where rebellion groups were located, and Emma was one of the lucky five thousand men picked to go find them and capture them. Her unit nodded obediently when they heard the news over a week ago back in Georgia, and like the other men and women as they filed out of the meeting room, faces impassive and staring straight ahead with the conflict in their heads rattling around with how they were going to tell their loved ones that they were off again, Emma felt her stomach drop and all she could think of was that heading back to Storybrooke would be happening later rather than sooner.

Neal was the most distraught Emma had ever seen the usually good-natured man. He had hidden away in a corner of their room speaking solemnly to Tamara on his phone.

He most likely wouldn't be there to see the birth of his kid.

He spent the night staring longingly at the ultrasound before stealing a couple pages of Emma's stationary and started to pen a letter to his unborn child. "The kid'll still hear from me, right?" He reasoned as he wrote.

Emma, however, took her emotions out in combat training. She had always been a little more quick to anger than most, and though she knew she'd get deployed eventually, she thought with the tiniest bit of hope that it wouldn't happen to her. But it did, and it pissed her off no matter how irrational her logic was. So aiding in some good ol' BCT, Emma whooped a handful of freshly recruited Privates' asses, both exhausting herself out and shutting down any of their misogynist assumptions that "a girl can't throw a punch."

She went directly to bed that night, but even the dreamless sleep didn't make her forget that she was supposed to be getting on a plane next week and heading back to Iraq. So the first thing she had done when she got up that morning was call Regina.

She almost didn't do it. If she didn't tell Regina it wouldn't be as real. But she wanted to. Needed to hear Regina's reassuring voice that she'd still write to her overseas, still fill her in on Henry's adventures, and still be there when Emma returned.

She caught Regina just as she got into work, and though Emma had never called the office except for the very first time, she was more than a little desperate to hear Regina's voice.

Patched through to a private line, Emma was relieved when a breathy "Emma?" sounded.

"Hey."

"Hi, yourself. How have you been, soldier?"

Emma sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"Emma?" Regina repeated, more concern in her voice than pleasant relief.

"I'm getting deployed." Announcing the news quickly didn't make it any easier to say, and with three simple words, the Mayor of Storybrooke was stricken dumb.

Though both women were quiet the incessant thudding of a heartbeat rang through Emma's ears. Whether it was her own, or Regina's, or some synchronized combination of both, Emma wasn't sure, but it was almost soothing, a comforting sound that seemed to halt time.

"When?" Regina's voice was strained.

"Next Tuesday."

"Tuesday?" Regina nearly gasped. "That's less than a week's notice."

"I know."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to Iraq."

Regina's groan was only half restrained as she spoke her thoughts. "Is that absolutely necessary?" She asked moreso to herself. "It's like we send more soldiers over there than we bring them back. Do we have a revolving door policy?"

Emma smirked at the last comment, missing the rough edge of the short-tempered Mayor she rarely got to see.

"If only you were president," Emma whispered dryly.

"Believe me, if my mother was alive, I would be."

"It's a toss-up whether there'd be world-peace or total anarchy."

"I am not a tyrant," Regina huffed. "And if I was even I know proper cause for war."

"Hey," Emma said at the disgruntled huff from the brunette. "I'll be back before you know it."

Regina went silent, and the soldier could hear the slow and deep breaths as Regina tried to hold her tongue from arguing. "Promise," Regina finally said, though the small inflection at the end made the word sound more like a hesitant question.

"Yes. I promise."

That had been the last Emma had spoken to Regina since she got deployed, and hearing stories from other veterans, the phone lines were pretty terrible here. Even if she found the time to wait in what could very well be an hour line up for a ten-minute phone call (the unspoken rule that one phone was the best one was out the door), the reception here was shitty. Back to snail mail, Emma thought to herself as she neatly placed her rucksack at the foot of her bed.

As soon as her unit landed, they were given time to settle into their barracks. Settling Rex onto their new cot, her favourite picture of her and Regina hidden deep in a pouch of her jacket not even risking leaving it in her pillow after her conversation with Neal, and a select few pictures currently in her bag waiting to be pinned, Emma removed her cap and waited to be debriefed.

Her mind ran wildly as she mentally counted approximately how many months she'd be away. Anywhere from a few months to a year. In time for Christmas? Definitely not, but the thought made her stomach flutter. She bit her lip fighting the pleased grin that wanted to form on her face. Having people to spend Christmas with, now that was something to be commended for.

She nodded at Neal who claimed the cot beside hers. The first thing he did was put the sonogram up on his wall next to a picture of him and Tamara on what looked to be a ferry with the Statue of Liberty in the background.

"Home sweet home," he muttered to her as he pushed a trunk full of some spare clothes under his bed.

Emma gave a tight lipped smile just as Brigade General Spencer walked into their barracks. The team stood by the foot of their beds as he walked briskly down the aisle, nodding his satisfaction at their prompt submission to his authority. He paused at Emma and gave her a once over that was borderline lecherous yet certainly disdain. The man would be directing their orders, telling them where to go, what to do, and how to do it, and Emma hated it. Not for the instructions, no, Emma was used to that. But because she didn't trust him, never really did, and now he had taken over their unit, and she was forced to follow orders from a man who did little to hide his sexism and just barely concealed his racism. He was every kind of –ist Emma could think of, and he was her leader.

"Fix your jacket, Swan," Spencer said with every air of superiority he could muster, and Emma had no choice but to adjust her already straightened collar before he deemed it good enough to move on.

"We've got a long few months ahead of us, men," he said reaching the end of the aisle and doubling back. "The local government is slowly civilizing with the help of our influential democracy, but that hasn't stopped the Al Qaida from being threatening. Raping, pillaging, killing. Killing our men. Your brothers. We've located several hideouts and over the course of the next year, we will be putting an end to their terrorist activity. We will let them know that is unacceptable in our country." He paused and glared at the entire room. "By any means necessary."

October 17, 2004 – Iraq – Undisclosed Location

Two things were guaranteed to happen while touring Iraq: dirt and boredom, and Emma was experiencing both. She sat with her back against boxes with equipment inside a weakly fortified tent in the middle of the desert that housed satellite equipment and a small medical team. Emma's squad had arrived less than twelve hours prior to escape an impending sandstorm. It was her birthday, and for the first time in three years, Regina hadn't sent anything. It wasn't the brunette's fault since Emma needed to make first contact to let Regina know the exact address to send any letters or packages to, but even with the logical rationality behind it, it still kind of stung just a little bit.

Truth be told, she didn't need a birthday gift or any form of reminder than she was another year older. Finally legal, Regina would say, perhaps handing her a glass of cider without reluctance. Maybe even with a devilish smirk.

It'd be even harder for mail to reach Emma now since they had left camp in order to navigate what many of the younger soldiers liked to call 'enemy territory'. She had sent Regina a letter over two weeks ago and expected the brunette to be receiving it soon. Add in the fact that Emma was in the middle of nowhere, she wouldn't hear from Regina for at least another month. Jesus, that's a long time.

So Emma sat against a crate of supplies and rifled through her bag pulling out all her letters and pictures. Another year older, and all Emma could think was that she should be having that birthday party now. She should be scraping frosting off Regina's chin and trying hard not to look embarrassed yet pleased as her friends and family sang to her.

Her head fell back against the box as she sighed longingly, her finger stroking over the picture of herself, Regina, and Henry in front of the birthday cake sporting wide, matching grins. God, she couldn't believe that was already six months ago. Where did the time go? She wondered what were Regina and Henry doing right now. She'd give anything just to call them for a minute, but even after buying her calling card, she had been too busy. Even Neal's phone was suffering to the reception and could only get through at certain spots in the camp, but out in the middle of nowhere, they were basically nonexistent to the world.

"Hey." The man in question dropped down next to her, nudging her shoulder in greeting. "Homesick?"

Emma tilted the picture for him to see. "They threw me a birthday slash going away party before I left."

"That's really sweet," he said smiling at the picture. "When's your birthday?"

"Today."

"What?" Neal straightened to face her. "Ems, why am I finding out about this just now."

"You're finding out a lot of things just now," she reasoned.

"But your birthday?" He hunched forward to swing his backpack to his front and dug through it. He finally produced a granola bar for her with a sheepish grin. "Happy birthday."

She eyed the granola bar incredulously, shaking her head. "I'm good, thanks."

"It's s'mores." He waved it enticingly.

She smirked but accepted it. "Thanks, big spender."

"Only the best for you."

Showing her gratitude, she opened up the snack and took a bite, munching loudly to make a point of eating her birthday present.

"Hey," Neal asked quietly so his voice traveled only to Emma. "Can I ask about you and the family?"

She took the last bite and crumpled up the wrapper before shoving it into her pocket, rolling her eyes at the man beside her. "Like who's on top?" She assumed dryly.

"Woah," he guffawed, putting his hands up to halt her words. "No, I had real questions, but if you want to talk about that. . ."

She backhanded his shoulder though he still grinned boyishly. "What do you want to know?"

"Have you been dating this entire time?"

She shook her head and squinted at the memory of how she technically met Regina. A booted car and a collision at a diner seemed like a lifetime ago. "August signed me up for that pen pal thing. She got me."

"In more ways than one," the man smirked.

"Shut up." She nudged him again, but the grin on her face sprouted nonetheless.

"So what, did the letters slowly become less about friendship and more about boasting about how big and brave you are?"

Emma shook her head as the voiceover of some of Regina's more notable letters replayed in her mind. Her lips twitched happily at the thought as they eased the anxiety of waiting. "No. She just, I don't know, but she cared about me for some reason. Whether I was okay, whether I was hurt, whenever I did something good, she wanted to know about it. When August lost his leg, she talked me through it when she was halfway across the world."

"So you're grateful to her?" He asked skeptically.

She shook her head then conceded. "I am in a way, but that's not all of it. Back in her town she's this elusive mayoral queen with an ice cold heart that only softens up for her kid, obviously."

"Bitch is a very attractive quality," Neal teased earning him a death glare that actually took him down a notch.

After he was sufficiently sobered, Emma continued. "She was never like that to me. Well, on purpose," she qualified. "She let her guard down and she let me into her house to meet her son and into her life."

A beat of silence passed before Neal smirked. "Wow. You've got it bad, Swan. Are those wedding bells, I hear?"

This time Emma laughed with him. "No, but yeah, I do," she said with no hesitation or embarrassment.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Neal asked cryptically.

"What?"

"Not hiding it. Having someone to talk to about your girl things."

Emma scoffed affectionately but arched a challenging eyebrow. "Well if you want to talk about girl things–"

"No!" He shoved a hand in her face pushing her away.

The blonde laughed and pushed back at him, and though she didn't vocalize it, it did feel good not to hide a huge part of herself from at least one other person. Neal was one of thousands of people in the army, and though she had lucked out to have met an open-minded man, she knew others weren't as lucky.

Holt came jogging up toward, another of the lucky soldiers sent to infiltrate Al Qaida whereabouts. He nodded in greeting. "Storm's over."

That was all that needed to be said for Neal and Emma to understand. Standing silently, and Neal donning his helmet, they followed Holt out of the tent to join the rest of the units.

"Jesus Christ, it's hot," Neal gruffed for the millionth time. After three days of his grumbling about the weather in this desert heat where the nights were hot and the days were hotter, Emma and their combined squad of twenty people were ready to show him the back end of their gun.

"We get it, Cassidy," Fred called from the rear. "You New Yorkers can't take the heat."

"Those sound like fighting words, Alabama," Neal yelled back.

"Anytime, Cassidy."

"My money's on Holt," Emma added with a sly grin.

"Traitor," Neal glared.

They had been travelling for nearly three days straight now, only stopping when sleep was essential, and even then that was taken in shifts. They had walked along a near desert plane where the closest thing to civilization was the tent they had left behind. The exact coordinates recon had given had forced the units to a small part of _ where confirmed sightings and activity of the Al Qaida were residing. The kicker: it was right smack dab in the middle of a village where no doubt civilians would be going about their daily lives, most likely fearful of the corruption controlling them but just as wary as the Americans claiming peace. To say this mission was sensitive would have been an understatement. Innocent local lives were at risk, but Emma was willing to bet Brigade General Spencer had more of a Manhattan Project mentality. Kill a hundred to save a thousand and the fact that they were foreigners, well all the better.

"If we find this place soon we'll be back for Christmas," Kennedy, a recent graduate of West Point and experiencing his first tour, said from the middle of the pack. He was a good soldier, if not more than a bit cocky in a way that was knowingly superior and annoying.

The rest of the team laughed at his assumption. "Got somewhere to be, Ken?" Khali, a 6'8 monster of a man asked gruffly.

"I'm just saying, we can blast some terrorist ass and be home in time for turkey dinner."

A collection of men laughed along Kennedy, egging him on and encouraging the smug jerk of his lips, though Emma, and the rest of the squad, shook her head at what had come to be known as an ignorant Kennedy-comment.

"When I get through with them, those Pakis won't even know what hit them," he continued.

"What?" Frederick asked nearly stopping his march at the remark.

"You're in Iraq, man," Neal jumped in hoping to warn the freshman to shut his mouth.

"Same thing."

"It's not." Fred's tone was laced with finality that made the already humid and uncomfortable air even more awkward. Fred was one of the nicest guys Emma had met, but even nice guys had their limits, especially when it came to ignorance.

"You're about two countries away," Emma chimed in.

Before he could respond, Neal spoke up again. "But hey if we do get back for Christmas, I wouldn't mind drowning myself in a few bottles of eggnog and getting Tamara under the mistletoe."

Sometimes Neal provided a great distraction and was good to diffuse problems, but sometimes his distraction of choice made Emma fight to restrain her eye roll.

"Who needs mistletoe? I wouldn't leave the bedroom," Khali joined in.

This time Emma did roll her eyes; it sucked being in a boys' club. She managed to close one ear to their conversation as they boasted about the women back home though she inwardly smirked. She was sure they were nice and pretty ladies, but Regina would totally give them a run for their money.

The few stolen kisses they had during what Emma thought of as the best week of her life, though the previous three weeks were fighting for a close second, was the most truly intimate thing she had ever done with someone. No, Emma was no stranger to brief moments in a bed, or rather the backseat of someone's car or a side alley, and even that brief fling at boot camp in the woods, but that was simply curiosity or scratching an itch. How good would Stephanie Cobalt's lips feel against hers? Jackson Moore was flirting her so who cared if his hands were a little too rough when they draped up and down her arms?

But with Regina, Regina was soft and warm, and though Emma also wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, after she found out, that's all she wanted to do. Their week hadn't gotten past anything more physical than over the clothes groping, and some nights Emma couldn't believe how she had managed to resist Regina Mills who oozed seduction with her perfectly painted smirk and smokey brown eyes.

With Regina, Emma wanted to give her more than just one night or one blissful week. That night of her birthday party she had meant what she said. She wanted to take Regina out on dates and show her and Henry around Boston. She wanted to give her flowers on her birthday and wake up next to her on Christmas morning with Henry agitating them to come down for presents. She wanted to give Regina the relationship she deserved. A relationship. Emma grinned at the thought. She wanted, has, a relationship with Regina, and as unorthodox as their beginning was, she wanted to do things right.

"What about you, Swan?" Emma looked up when Neal called her, a knowing smirk on his face. "You gonna get some Christmas cock?"

"Oh my god." She scrunched up her face in a mixture of annoyance and nausea. Once just to make sure and never again, she had promised herself. The men laughed at Emma's displeasure as the blonde rolled her eyes with a groan, punching the man beside her on the arm hard enough so that he felt it. Though he toppled over, he gave an unapologetic shrug. The boys' club strikes again.

That night wouldn't go down in the history books as the end of the war nor was it big enough to make national news. Hell, a lot of things were hush-hush around here especially when local lives were lost. But to Emma, that night would be second in one of the scariest nights of her life. She hadn't experienced the chart topper yet, so for now, the night they attacked the hideout set her emotions on high and nearly killed her.

It had been late when they spotted the beginnings of a small community. So late it may as well have been early. Despite the three days of near-constant walking with little sleep and even less food, the team of twenty had followed orders just two miles shy of the exact coordinates.

Then they waited.

For two days sitting in a man-made trench they scoured the movements of the small village. Just like every other village Emma had seen, the buildings were made of mortar and big block stones, the height of the structures only big enough to just fit the tallest person of the family as thin black abayahs and white thawbs hung on the clothes lines outside the home. Emma had gotten used to the elevated design of the villages she had encountered where every row of houses and trading centers seemed to be on a stretch of land higher than the next. It was all hard lines, rough roads, and busy surroundings as children scattered the streets during the day, chasing after one another in a constant game of cops and robbers. Mothers and sisters visited merchant men to buy and exchange goods. Men led goats along the roads as chickens congregated in groups like city pigeons. It was all innocuous and pleasant and nonthreatening.

But she and the rest of her team knew that in one of those buildings – inside the school house, inside a mother's home, in the spare room of a store owner's shop even – was millions of dollars' worth of illegal arms and unsavoury rebels using them on a regular basis to get their message across.

Already they had noticed a bike and buggy with confirmed weaponry inside as it made its way to one particular site. No doubt it was the most well-kept house in the town and they all knew the reason why. The leader would bring in profit and protection for the people in exchange for a little harmless takeover.

It was their second night scouting when Emma's team made their move. In the dead of the night, they crept the two miles toward the village, mindful of the one or two late night wanderers making their way back to their homes. Divided into four groups of five, the smaller units surrounded the village from the north, east, south, and west entrances with Emma, Neal, Fred, Kennedy and Khali having the honours of having the southern and most concealed form of invasion.

The night air was cool, cooler than Emma remembered it ever being. Whether the drop in temperature was actually occurring or the cold sweat from the anticipated adrenaline racing through her veins was keeping the soldier alert, Emma wasn't sure. All she knew as she held up the middle of the group, her steps quiet and controlled as her gaze remained ever shifting, watching for any minute movements or signs that something was amiss, was that something was going to happen tonight. Good or bad, it was a toss up for who, but she knew without an ounce of uncertainty that this moment, this moment lurking in the shadows, catching just the hint of movement from the three other groups around her, this moment was what she had been training for. This would be what all those movies depicted. She knew it. And she was right.

For the past two nights they had noticed that the centermost house constantly had their lights on throughout the night. It also happened to be the house where the buggy and bike had dropped off their boxes of weapons. Frederick had spotted AK47s, grenades, and machine guns. No doubt the remaining boxes held ammunition and with the very real possibility that the entire population of the village could be coerced into attacking the allies, Emma was going in with the mentality they were outnumbered ten to one.

The northern crew had direct access to the main entrance into the town, and with that, they were the most exposed. With a combined total of sixty years in service, they were most experienced and equipped to deal with a full frontal assault should one occur. On paper they were supposed to infiltrate the hideout, bring in their leader, Hussein Al-Jamil who had a history of violent behaviour and a criminal record, and any aiding rebels for the local police to deal with while confiscating the arms. But with the order coming from Spencer, he would want to make sure they were out for good.

Just apprehend and confiscate, Emma told herself over and over as the five of them climbed up onto the roofs of several nearby houses overlooking the central spot. Apprehend and confiscate was all she had to do and then they could go home. No one had to get hurt.

A reflective light shown from the western and eastern teams as Khali responded with a similar sign signalling they were all in position.

They waited one last time. A slight draft picked up. The wind blew gently in Emma's ear as she looked through her eyepiece of her M16 and trained her gun at the back windows. Figures danced as shadows on the wall in the light of the room, and though they were nothing more than just reflections, Emma could already tell by both the graceful and haphazard movements that a woman and a child were inside.

Ramirez, the team leader of the northern crew, kicked down the wooden door as if it were nothing more than paper crumpling beneath his boot. The shadows on the wall twitched hurriedly and Emma watched as a small body came to the window before the woman pulled the child away. Arabic curses rang through the village and soon the surrounding houses, fortified inside their own stone homes, had husbands and fathers shutting their windows and locking them tight. Before the team leader could fully enter the house, a boom roared and a hiss sounded as gas and dust surrounded the northern team in the thick white smoke.

The yelling in Arabic became more clear as a man in a thawb and gutral and ogal came out with a rifle, shooting blindly into the air to assert his dominance as two more men twice the size as he came out with matching weapons.

"You are ordered to drop your weapons and release any others in your possession!" Ramirez yelled. Despite the smoke his gun with trained on Hussein's chest.

"هذا هو بيتي! هذا هو بلدي!" He yelled back, pointing his gun back at Ramirez and taking courageous steps forward. "أنت واحد الذي يهددنا!"

Blind to Iraqi men, an ally sneaked away from the unforgiving smoke to clearer air. Emma covered for him as he ducked around the back of the house to a boarded up window and used the butt of his rifle to bring it in. What he was met with was a rifle to his face as the metal collided with his nose and brought him to the ground.

"We need to move," Khali grunted beside Emma as the bulking mass rolled off the roof and landed on his feet as gracefully as a cat.

She followed as an eastern light flashed, and the five men from the east left their position and moved closer, strategically keeping to the shelters. But then something happened that Emma hadn't expected.

Doors began opening up, and where Emma had thought citizens were boarding up for the evening, several houses lit up to reveal men in similar attire with machetes or machine guns in their grasps. A feminine voice cried out as she pleaded to her husband to come back inside but with a careless swat she was silenced as the men ran swiftly to the center house.

As quick as they had appeared, some men had dropped one by one as the western team remained hidden, shooting down the threat as they approached. Hussein yelled out, and without warning or hesitation, he put a bullet in Ramirez's shoulder.

Emma wished the next moments had been a blur within the utter chaos, but as she followed Khali, with Kennedy, Fred, and Neal behind her, through the streets of the village, she could hear the faintest sounds of female voices in their various homes joined together in prayer and children crying out in confusion.

As soon as Ramirez fell, Hussein and his two accomplices retreated into the home as the other attackers who hadn't fallen prey to the overhead gunfire continued on their way. For a moment, it was as if Emma was back in her dream where she was the lone soldier destined to fight off a swarm of enemy, but this time when she opened her eyes, it didn't go away. She blinked and blinked, but every single time she opened her eyes, the screams got louder and the yelling grew angrier. Gunshots continued ringing in her ears as dust and rock erupted around them from bullets landing too close, either from their side or the other it was hard to tell.

Bullets were unforgiving that way.

As they reared to the side, they saw the door to house open once more and a bottle with fluid and a burning rag was tossed out the door.

"Take cover!" Khali yelled. The team ducked behind the buildings, grateful for the stone of the structure as a boom resounded throughout the town. The shock was so strong Emma thought the ground might split in two and she'd drop down into the center of the earth.

Rubble, sand, dirt, and Emma didn't want to think what else rained down on her as the distinct smell of gasoline and smoke filled her lungs. She coughed harshly but still managed to get her bearings as she shook off the soot from her helmet. In her peripherals she could see the north recovering from the blast. Fred and Neal emerged from behind a wagon. Khali, he was lying face down in the dirt. Suddenly the monster man didn't look so fearsome.

The once darkened night sky brightened with the heat of the fire as the surrounding houses burned. The thatched wooden roofs lit up like beacons signalling a ship to shore, but the only witness to this spectacular devastation was whatever entity anyone here believed in. God. Allah. Nothing could stop the inevitable of the night. They were drowning in a sea of fire and metal during high tide, and the shore line was further and further away.

But the screaming. The locals could only remain ignorant for so long before it was complete and utter chaos at the sound of the more deadly explosion. Nearly all doors were ripped open as they retreated from the attack. Mothers were clutching their babies to their breasts. Fathers had their children slung on their back. Elderly limped through the crowds. Deciphering between innocent and threat would have been a shot in the dark, and even Emma wasn't confident enough in her deductive reasoning to make that call.

Hussein exited the house once more, his men leaving his side to shoot up to where the western team was still hidden, but this time, the shadows that Emma had seen in the windows, a woman and a little boy not much older than six, were pressed against Hussein's front as he shouted out orders.

Despite the ringing, the gunfire, the screams, that little boy's whimpering was the only sound Emma could hear. His face was tucked into his mother's neck as he gripped the front of her abayah tightly. The woman was crying, her face pulled away from her husband's grasp as he pressed the gun to her waist. The boy's whimpers were like a grounding force for Emma. He was shaken and scared, and all his mother could do was hold him tight to her, using her body as a shield though she herself was in danger.

Emma snapped.

She broke from her team, avoiding the confused and terrified crowd. Every bump into an innocent erupted into a horrified scream, but she pushed past them, weaving behind buildings until she was to the east of the house, crouched low behind a barrel of water. The eastern team replaced the north where two of the men were shielding Ramirez, bloody and burned, while the other two were laying fire.

Emma was hidden behind them all. She shouldered her rifle and lined up her shot. A wooden awning pillar was obstructing her view as Hussein gestured wildly with his gun. A part of her was nervous, his wife was too close, she was holding her son. It took a millimeter of a step in the wrong direction for her to kill the mother and son. She could miss and cause him to turn around as put a bullet in her own brain. But she had to try.

She inhaled once, squinted through the eyepiece, and the second he was centered she fired. The woman screamed from his grasp as he pushed forward away from the entrance, releasing his grip on his wife and child. His gun went off toward the sky, but the woman and the boy were safe from him. They didn't look back as they got lost in the crowd. So relieved with the rescue she didn't see another man come up behind her with a giant piece of stone in his hand. Feeling the presence at the absolute last second, Emma turned her head to stare up at the tall lanky man. Without thinking she shifted her gun lengthwise and shoved up just as the rubble came down hard against it. With his momentum and gravity working against her, Emma barely had time to think that had he connected, he would have surely knocked Emma out or worse.

Another explosion nearly had Emma ducking, but luckily for her, it was enough to make her attacker flinch. Stone and metal and fire fell from the heavens in the western part of the village as Emma took advantage of his distraction and stood halfway and used the balls of her feet to spring herself forward and tackle the man to the ground. He struggled against her as she pinned him down with a forearm across his larynx, but his right hand loosened enough for him to swing, fist and stone connecting sickly with Emma's temple.

Her vision blackened for a long moment as she stilled and fell to the side, her already bleeding head connecting with the rock hard ground. When her sight returned, hazy, blurry, watery images appeared before her. The orange and red of distorted flames. People running in all directions, merciless to those who had fallen as they trampled over them. And then a dark shadow stood over her, the tall lanky man with a bloody stone in one hand and her gun in the other as he trained it right in the middle of her forehead.

Noise drowned out as she stared down the barrel of her gun. She had always thought that near-death experiences were accompanied by freak flashes of your life, but as she saw his finger move to the trigger, all she could think in that one split paralyzed second was Regina and Henry sitting on top of that damn horse as they sang that lullaby that never failed to calm Emma down. She stared the man down nearly daring him to do it. It'd be quick, and she'd be anywhere but here. His finger twitched and a gun shot, but then blood trickled down the middle of his forehead as a bullet lodged itself there. He fell to his knees, dropping the M16 before falling limply to the ground.

Her head started to pound nimbly like a heartbeat as if the organ itself had traveled through her chest and up her lungs to shield her brain from damage. Her mind slowly returned to her enough that she was able to turn herself over onto her stomach and slide across the sand and stone toward her gun. Before her fingers could even touch it, a final bomb so close that the heat from the blast felt like it would melt Emma's flesh went off. And then another. And another.

Each explosion coming closer and closer as if they were heading straight for her like she was their only target. One by one, buildings fell around her like dominoes. She curled her body inward, tucking her head into her chest as stones buried her under the ashes and flames and bodies.

Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi amor, arrorró pedazo de mi corazón.

October 26, 2004 – Storybrooke, Maine

Regina took a relaxed breath as she read the final lines from Emma's letter. The blonde had made it safely overseas but was uncertain when she'd be able to call Regina again. Apparently they were keeping everyone busy in the Middle East, and after following every newspaper and media coverage, Regina was certain of it as well. Like nearly the entire country, Regina had been on board with sending their military to Iraq after the horrific events of 9/11 but as the years progressed and more and more soldiers were being shipped away and more privacy was being stripped in the name of homeland security, Regina's views shifted.

Especially since she got to know Emma.

Back then, the younger woman was a faceless friend whom she had grown to care about deeply. Every letter held a degree of anxiety while she was on tour since Regina was acutely aware that it could be her last. But the blonde had been nervous enough for the both of them and Regina had remained the one to keep her grounded. Now with Emma as more than a friend – they never did quite talk about what they were to each other – with Emma as someone who made Regina feel things she hadn't felt in years, the agitation built up inside her like a tidal wave constantly crashing over her.

But for now with Emma's letter in her hand claiming a safe trip and a safer arrival, Regina could keep her head above water before the next high tide hit. She smiled fondly at the letter before placing it on her foyer table on top of a care package that would be Emma's birthday gift already filled with another jar of cocoa, some toys and school supplies to give to the children there, and a book, along with a discman and a few CDs that August chipped in for Emma's coming of age. The fact that Regina had missed this year's birthday drove her anal retentive nature crazy, but neither women were a hundred percent sure which base camp the blonde would be stationed at, and Regina didn't want to send it as a shot in the dark.

"Pa-choo, pa-choo!" Henry's playing reminded Regina that she had promised her son to paint his face in preparation for Halloween. Though the holiday was five days away, Henry had the tendency to constantly wear his Halloween costume for a week straight. Last year Regina was faced with the predicament that Henry wouldn't even take off his costume for bath time. Batman Henry got sufficiently soaked that night as the boy saved Gotham, claiming the city was flooded. In all honesty, Regina was preparing herself for months in advance for this year's costume through online searches and visits to the lone thrift store in town while steadily avoiding the pawn shop for her disdain of the owner. With Henry's love for Treasure Planet and his recent obsession with growing a rat's tail, Regina had scouted out jackets, shirts, and even a fake clip on earring for what would have been his Halloween costume all ready to go hidden in the back of her closet. But to Regina's surprise, though it really shouldn't have been when she thought about it, Henry went an entirely different route.

Private Henry Mills was in his playroom, crouched on his belly and forearms as he hid under the child-sized picnic table with Rexy Junior and Sea Turtle. For two days after returning home from pre-school, Henry had run up to his room, clothes left discarded in his wake, to change into his army uniform. It was nowhere near professional as Emma's with the thick insulated materials and the desert camouflage, but to Henry it was perfect. Jungle-style dark green and brown camo was the print of his button up shirt with Private etched onto the breast, and his cargo pants with real thigh length pockets were just like Emma's (plus he could hide small toys or cookies in there). The outfit also came equipped with a utility belt holding a walkie-talkie. A tiny plastic machine gun had been included, but before Henry had even seen the costume Regina had tossed the weapon away. She was all for her son having the best costume, but she was still a mother, and the last thing she wanted was for her son to play with guns. Ironic still from her choice in lover. However, the helmet he was sporting was entirely a Regina-creation. She had taken his old Playhouse construction worker hat and after a quick paint job to match the jungle camo, it was ready for military use. She couldn't wait to send Emma pictures of him.

"Les go, boys," Henry said into his walkie-talkie before taking Rexy Jr. and Sea Turtle by the limbs and crawling out from under the table. Regina refrained from stopping him when Henry suddenly started rolling toward his tent then stood and attempted a somersault, though it was really him just placing his head on the ground and walking his body to the opposite way. He twitched dramatically before falling into the tent. "Ahh, they got me! They got me! Save me, Mommy!"

Regina shook her head affectionately, walking the distance from the entrance to his tent and pulling the Velcro away that attached the roof to pick Henry up into a tight snuggle.

"Phew," he said wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "Thassa close one."

"That was a close one," Regina said dutifully, giving his nose a gentle tap with her finger.

"We gonna paint my face now?" He asked excitedly.

Regina said nothing and simply placed him down onto his feet and walked the few steps to his art table where she left the face paint.

"And Rexy too?" Henry asked holding up Rexy Jr. in one hand and squinting one eye in hopeful persuasion. "He has to match his Daddy."

"I don't recall Rex being in uniform."

"He's with Emma," reasoned the boy as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

To Henry's credit, Regina could see his logic, but face paint on toy fabric was a recipe for disaster. Tucking a hand under her chin in thought, Regina bargained with her son. "We can't paint Rexy, but I think we can make him match Daddy."

October 28 2004

Emma,

I'm so glad to hear you've arrived safely. I admit, I was getting more than a little worried since I had gotten used to expecting your letter more frequently.

Regardless, first things first. Happy birthday, Emma. I feel terrible that this greeting is coming so late, but Henry and I were thinking of you. I've sent pictures that I'm sure you've already looked through. Henry insisted on making you a cake, but I managed to talk him down to simply cupcakes. Honestly, I fear for his teeth. I actually have no idea how everything works overseas, but I've also sent a fresh jar of cocoa. If it didn't survive the trip, there will be a steaming cup with your name on it when you return. Perhaps some whipped cream if you've been good.

We had our Miner's Day festival two weeks ago, and Leroy acquired a pickaxe and took it to a fuse box at Town Hall. Surprisingly he was sober when he did it, but I suppose his antic helped the nuns sell their candles. Dealing with the electricians for that was a complete waste of time.

Halloween is in a few days though, and we were wrong. Henry isn't Jim Hawkins, but I think you might like his new costume. He's also recruited a companion to take along with him when we go trick-or-treating.

Please be safe, Emma. We care about you and expect you home safe and sound.

Yours,

Regina

She signed her name and tucked the lone picture into the envelope along with the letter. Before she closed the flap, Regina smiled at the picture of Henry dressed in his army man costume, sitting on the couch with Rexy Jr., mimicking Emma and Rex's picture from months back, as the baby dinosaur sat proudly on Henry's shoulder, a carefully stitched army uniform clothing his torso with a miniature helmet to match.

November 24, 2004 – Storybrooke, Maine

Sidney quivered as he sat in front of Regina in her office at Town Hall. For such a petite woman, Regina could make even the biggest and strongest of men feel an inch small, so it was an easy task to make the nosy reporter nearly wet himself as Regina hissed lightly under her breath for his incompetence.

"I really don't understand what's so difficult for you to understand, Mr. Glass," Regina enunciated slowly, refraining from pinching the bridge of her nose to display her obvious frustration. "You are the one who put me in touch with the military, did you not?"

"I did, but–"

"Then why can you not locate Corporal Swan's location?"

"It's classified information, Regina. I, I mean, Madam Mayor," he stammered quickly to amend his mistake. "All I did was simply place an application in your name to pair you up. I didn't call the military directly to get her contact information."

"I was under the impression no media coverage was safe from your eyes which led me to believe you have connections, unsavoury or not," Regina began swiftly. "All I ask from you is to find out which camp Corporal Swan is stationed at. How difficult can that possibly be?"

"Units move constantly, and even individual soldiers get sent out on missions that are on a need-to-know basis. It could take weeks to even scratch the surface of finding your soldier," Sidney argued with just the barest hint of raising his voice before Regina's raised eyebrow had him cowering in his seat.

"Then get to it." She spoke slowly, enunciating every word and dismissing him all the same.

Sidney looked as if he wished to appeal to her reason, but after two months of silence, Regina's reason was thrown out the window, so the reporter took the logical approach and nodded his agreement, scampering out of her office hurriedly with his tail between his legs.

Regina exhaled through clenched teeth and willed the tension to leave her body, but it was no use. She was frustrated and tired, and the last time she had heard from Emma was when she had received her letter claiming to have landed in Iraq. True that had only been a month prior, but Emma had written that in September, and Thanksgiving was already tomorrow, and Regina half-hoped to expect her own letter and package had been received by the soldier by now. She knew it had landed safely since she had been monitoring the tracking number, but the phone call Regina expected to get never came.

Regina knew she was overreacting. Emma herself said it was difficult to place a call, let alone find the time to attempt it, and if Emma had already gotten the package and had written her response, Regina wouldn't hear from her in another month. But with so much piling up on her plate, preparing for the annual Town Hall Christmas party scheduled in three weeks, dealing with a sick Henry who had come down with a fever shortly after his trick-or-treating and had done nothing but cuddle and sleep, and now since it had been two whole months since she actually heard Emma's voice, Regina was feeling overwhelmed.

"Knock, knock," Kathryn greeted at the door as she stuck her head into Regina's office.

"What?" The brunette hissed nearly slamming her palms down onto her desk.

Kathryn cocked an eyebrow and took a cautious step toward her. "You look like you could use a friend."

"I am far too busy, Mrs. Nolan," Regina huffed, shuffling papers that looked irrelevant to anything on her agenda.

"Kathryn," the blonde corrected and shut the door behind her as she took Sidney's vacated seat. "Ignoring the obvious need you have to strangle me right now, how's Henry been doing?"

"He's fine," Regina ground out as she took one calming exhale. "The antibiotics Dr. Whale prescribed to him did wonders. Now what are you doing here, Mrs. Nolan?" At Kathryn's raised eyebrow, Regina rolled her eyes and amended. "Kat."

Kathryn grinned but said nothing as she leaned forward in her seat. "I'm here for meetings. My law firm are the consultants for the businesses Pan's boys had vandalized in the last year."

"The boys have been doing well in the last six months," Regina pointed out.

"It's the first six where they caused the most trouble," Kathryn reminded her.

Regina shook her head and sighed. "So what does that have to do with you popping into my office?"

"I overheard–"

"You eavesdropped."

"About Emma," Kathryn continued unfazed. "Is something wrong?"

"Everything is f–"

"Don't tell me everything is fine, Regina."

"Don't interrupt me, Kathryn," the brunette replied back coldly.

"Then stop pretending that I don't have fourteen years of friendship on you," Kathryn responded just as smartly.

They held each other's gazes, and though Kathryn hadn't quite mastered the death glare Regina was so infamous for, it was under Kathryn's sincere pleading that Regina softened and broke away, running fingers through already immaculate hair. "Emma has been sent back overseas," Regina explained slowly. "I haven't heard from her in a while."

The blonde nodded understandingly and scooted her chair closer to the desk, leaning over to offer her hands for Regina to take. Regina stared at Kathryn's hands as if they were on fire and one touch would burn her, but with great reluctance and much consideration, Regina allowed her old friend to grasp her hands within her own. "She'll be fine," Kathryn said softly, giving Regina a squeeze.

"You said that when my father dropped to the ground and was taken to the hospital," Regina reminded her.

And Kathryn did remember how Regina had avoided her phone calls for days until news spread that Mr. Mills had passed away. When Kathryn had finally gotten a hold of her, Regina had been a mixture of pure fury and unbearable sadness, and as she held her friend that night, mutterings of "you promised" etched within the tears that had stained Kathryn's shirt, the blonde knew there had been a shift within her best friend.

Now over thirteen years later, Kathryn could still see that pessimism and hardness slowly cloud over Regina's eyes as her mind whirled with possible scenarios and outcomes on where her soldier was.

"I know," Kathryn whispered apologetically. Granted she knew she never had a chance to promise Regina such a miracle when her father suddenly passed, but it had stayed with her through the years. "You said it yourself, Emma is a good soldier. You know how slow the post is, and you know how busy she gets." Kathryn squeezed Regina's hand again when the brunette tried to turn away. "Wherever she is she's thinking of you."

That promise Kathryn was sure she could keep.

A week and a half later, the temperatures in their small town dropped below freezing, and though it was cold enough that nearly any exposed skin could be subjected to frostbite, snow had yet to form on the ground. Regardless of the lack of snow, Henry had insisted they travel in his sled as they made a trip to Granny's diner. Granny's special peppermint gingerbread cookies had finally returned to the small restaurant, and Regina had promised her son the treat.

The wooden sled ground harshly against the concrete sidewalk, the rubber and wood under the sled crushing the road salt littered on the ground as Regina pulled Henry along with the boy calling out "On Comet! On Prancer! On Dancer and Rudolph!" The mayor grinned as she listened to Henry. No matter how many times they read 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, the order of his reindeers continued to change or become reinvented.

She turned onto the diner's patio, closed for the winter season, and offered her hand to Henry to help the boy from his spot. He struggled to maneuver his way out of the sled since Regina had dressed him into every layer she could find. After an undershirt, a long sleeve, a tshirt, a sweater, his underwear, thermal underwear, and Levi's, Regina deemed him acceptable to finally put on his snowsuit. The extra clothes limited his mobility, and while dressing Henry had complained about getting hot, but at least Regina knew he was safe from the cold. He wobbled off the sled and waited patiently for Regina to sit it up against the outer wall before helping him inside the diner.

Immediately the smell of turkey dinner, gingerbread, mint, holly, and everything Christmas assaulted their senses as they stepped into the diner. Christmas lights were strung up around the room, and a strategically placed mistletoe was hanging by the back entrance connecting the diner to the B&B while Boney M's Mary's Boy Child played happily from the jukebox in the corner.

"Mommy," Henry groaned, tugging at his scarf that covered half his face.

Regina knelt down and unwrapped him, holding onto his scarf, hat and jacket as he galloped his way over to the table by the window and waved excitedly to Ruby. Regina sat across from him, setting their coats down across the back of her chair.

"Hello, Madam Mayor," Ruby, in a just barely decent Mrs. Clause outfit complete with short skirt and cinched jacket greeted already placing down a mint hot chocolate down in front of Henry and a spiced apple cider in front of Regina. At Regina's questioning eyebrow, Ruby explained. "I could hear your sled from a mile away."

"Thank you," Regina said with a nod as she sipped the hot brew. When Ruby didn't leave the table, Regina looked up and cast her another curious glance.

"How's Emma?" The waitress asked.

"Fine," Regina answered habitually, though truth be told, she was still as nervous as ever. She had sent a follow-up letter, simply writing about how she and Henry were and as always, wishing for Emma's safety. It was useless to think Emma would receive that letter as if by magic, but like Henry who had once thought that covered toys actually disappeared under the blanket and that his nose was actually taken whenever Graham tucked his thumb between his knuckles, Regina felt that since the letter was in the mail it'd be transported immediately to exactly where Emma would be.

Sometimes she'd have a moment of clarity and realize the strenuous nature of Emma's job. No doubt the blonde would keep busy, and even if she had a minute, it would best be spent resting. If Regina could help at all, simply continuing to send letters would lift Emma's spirits even if she couldn't find the time to reply back. But most times, Regina feared for the worst. Suffering such great loss so young in her life and in such quick succession made Regina the type to hold on tighter to any good thing she had. That's why Henry was only watched by a select few and every bump and scrape was treated with the utmost care. He was all she had, and she wouldn't lose him.

"That's good to hear," Ruby smiled and made her way back toward the counter.

"When's it gonna snow, Mommy?" Henry asked when they returned home from the diner, bellies full of gingerbread and cocoa. He was sitting in the foyer on his bum, tugging furiously on his boot, but Regina had triple socked him, and no matter how hard the toddler pulled, his boot wouldn't budge.

"I'll have to ask the weatherman." Regina knelt down to his level after shedding her coat, scarf, and gloves. Taking the toe and heel of his boot, she pulled one off with force before moving to the other.

"You should ask Mother Nature 'cause she controls the entire world," he said as a matter of fact.

"Does she?"

"When she's happy, she makes the sun come out, but when she's sad she cries rain, and when she's sick, she coughs and coughs and makes big, big winds!"

"What happens when it's snowing?"

He put a finger to his chin in thought as Regina lifted him to his feet and removed the straps of his snow overalls. "She's making a cake and the flour gets everywhere," he decided.

Regina giggled with her son. "Maybe we should ask her to bake a cake for us so that we can play in the flour and powdered sugar."

"You call her?" Henry asked squinting one eye hopefully.

"I'll do my very best." Satisfied with her answer, Henry ran off as soon as he was stripped down to one pair of socks and his thermal underwear. Regina was sure he'd pick at his clothes later when he became too hot, but for now she was content to let him play, picking up the layers of clothing she had taken off of him and making her way to the laundry.

She sorted the clothing into their respective bins and listened for the sound of Henry playing. She had to get Henry's suit tailored for the Christmas party coming up, and she still had to sign off on the annual lighting of the tree ceremony. She had barely touched their own Christmas decorations, the most progress was that the boxes lay partially opened in the designated corner of the living room by the fire place. On top of that, both Kathryn and Tina had voiced to her that the owners of the stores the Pan boys vandalized were planning on pressing charges. Tina was distraught, and Kathryn was attempting to lessen the consequences. Regina had a disdain for their guardian, but the boys themselves just needed some guidance. A second chance and someone to believe in them. Just thinking of her never-ending to-do list had Regina rubbing her temples hoping to stave off the inevitable headache that was starting to form.

The phone rang, and Regina was grateful for the distraction. Glancing quickly into the room to see that Henry was playing with his medieval toy set, Regina reached the kitchen and pulled the phone off the receiver. "Mills residence."

"Hi."

Regina's heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach as her ears filled with Emma's voice for the first time since the soldier had called saying she was being deployed. It was hazy, like wind was blowing in the background, and static spurt through the silence, but Emma was okay and on the phone and fine.

"Emma?" Regina whispered disbelieving.

"One and only," the blonde sassed though there was a gentle hesitance to it.

"How have you been?" Regina asked with a quiet desperation.

"Tired," the blonde admitted, and Regina felt foolish for thinking the worst. She could hear the ache of little sleep in Emma's voice, but the greater, more selfish side of her was so grateful to hear it nonetheless. "How –zzz– you –zzz– little man?"

"Emma?" Regina squinted as she strained to hear the blonde. "I can't hear you."

"Shit," the soldier muttered as the line continued to static before it relatively cleared. "Better?"

"Yes."

"How are you and Henry?" She repeated herself.

"Keeping busy," Regina answered, leaning beside the walled phone as she played with the cord between her fingers. "Henry's growing like a weed. I bought him an outfit last year to wear for our Christmas photo, and he grew out of it before he even had a chance to wear it."

"Yeah, it is almost Christmas there, isn't it?" Emma wondered amazed. "It doesn't feel like it over here. But I got your package and your letter. Pretty sure Neal thinks Henry's my kid with him dressing up as a soldier for Halloween."

"Rexy Jr. had to match his father," Regina said emulating a certain three-year old.

"Is that who he was copying, huh?" The soldier said wryly earning a laugh from Regina. "I –zzz– "

Regina frowned and squinted. "What was that?"

"I said I missed that," Emma repeated when the static cleared. "Your laugh."

"Is that the only thing you missed?" Regina grinned as Emma nearly choked at the near-sultry tone the brunette had taken. She bit her lip pleased yet modestly embarrassed, but at the same time, she couldn't find it in her to give a damn. It had been months since she had seen Emma, touched Emma, so embarrassment flew out the window.

Emma's voice dropped down to a husky timber. "How about I fill you in on what I plan to explore?"

It was Regina's turn to choke on her words as she recalled their time on the porch swing, heated kisses and exploring hands, but with Emma's promise in the forefront of her mind, it had progressed past the less-than-innocent touches. Her cheeks flushed red and a stirring hummed deep in the pit of her pelvis as her mind continued to taunt her.

"Don't say things unless you plan to hold up your end of the bargain, soldier."

"Believe me," Emma said earnestly. "I do."

Regina grinned brightly as fluttering erupted in her chest. Attempting to hide her blush by clearing her throat, Regina asked, "Neal is doing well, I assume?"

"Oh," Emma became solemn, and the tone she took had the grin Regina wore wiped off her face. "He's still in the infirmary. He's got burns running down his neck and left arm."

"Dear god, what happened?"

"Nothing," she said hastily.

"People don't just get hurt for no reason."

The blonde scoffed and replied bitterly. "Yeah, right."

"Emma?" Regina asked worriedly.

"He got too close to a fire."

"I know how burns happen, Emma," Regina said on the verge of snapping. "What were you doing?"

"We were following orders. We had to apprehend and confiscate. He's going to be fine."

Regina nodded, then a beat of silence passed. "What happened to you?"

"–zzz–" Emma's silent contemplation was interrupted by the constant static on the line, but finally Regina heard her sigh. "I –zzz– concussion."

"A concussion?" Regina nearly shrieked. "Did you see a doctor?"

"Of course I did. It just knocked me around for a couple weeks, but then my leg was scratched up and got infected, so I couldn't walk for another week," she answered dismissively. "I'm really the last person you should be concerned about."

"Why didn't you call me sooner?" The brunette demanded.

"–zzz– –zzz–" The static was so bad Regina couldn't decipher anything Emma was saying.

"What?"

"The phone lines here suck," Emma grunted as both explanation and aggravation.

"What on earth were you doing that landed you in the hospital?" Regina demanded, her voice rising without her control.

"My job," Emma deadpanned just as strongly.

"Apprehending and confiscating doesn't lead to concussions and infections."

"It does here."

"So it was simply a mission gone awry then?" Regina deadpanned. "I told you not to make stupid decisions and to be safe."

"Nothing –zzz– stupid," Emma argued.

"What?" Regina yelled frustrated.

"It wasn't stupid!" the blonde yelled back just as annoyed.

"You got yourself hurt."

"–zzz– going –zzz– hurt."

Regina growled at the incessant static.

"I'm not dead," Emma reminded her.

"Not yet!" Angry tears clouded Regina's eyes, but she did well to push them away. She swallowed hard, mouth and throat dry as she pressed the heel of her palm to her closed eyes in frustration. "I can't deal with this."

The only thing she heard next was static then a dial tone.

AN2: Arabic translation: هذا هو بيتي! هذا هو بلدي! أنت واحد الذي يهددنا! = This is my home! This is my country! You are the one who is threatening us!

I couldn't find anything that would allow me to translate it into Latin characters, and the translation is courtesy of Google Translate.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Disclaimer in Chapter One

AN: I'm so sorry for the delay, but I hope the lengths of these chapters have been worth the wait! Honestly, I've been doing a scavenger hunt at work for a week and a half, and my competitive side has me running around the city looking for pink three-holed buttons and Yakbaks. Anyone got IT on VHS or an Onyx Pokemon Card?!

The only thing she heard next was static and a dial tone.

Regina's breath caught in her throat as the low hum of the dial tone sounded ominously in her ear. She fought to swallow the lump in her throat that was so thick it felt like she had been choking on a jawbreaker. Reality struck when the busy signal blared incessantly, reminding Regina that her time was up.

No. No, this can't be happening. She hadn't meant it.

She hung up frantically and pulled the receiver to her ear, but all that did was end the busy signal and restart the dial tone. The warm fluttering in her chest from the sound of Emma's voice turned into cold dread as her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach like a sky diver who forgot their parachute. A simple mistake with drastic consequences? Regina was familiar with that.

She hung up and picked up the phone twice more, each time with more ferocity and every time her rationale waning.

Oh dear god, she was an awful person, she thought as she pulled her hair away from her forehead and paced the kitchen haphazardly. Did she just yell at Emma, a soldier who was risking her life every single day because she got hurt? She shook her head at her own absurd and brash behaviour. What the hell was she thinking? She wasn't thinking, that was the obvious answer. Every form of explanation – she was worried, she was upset, she was scared – it all didn't matter in the end because as long as Emma was breathing then that's okay. Then she should have told her that! Regina smacked a palm over her forehead at her own idiocy, one she never admitted except for the rare case, and Emma was the rarest of them all.

She had to apologize. Right now. Right then and there. She growled and slammed her fist down on the island in frustration because she couldn't apologize right then and there because this distance thing was torturous and Emma was halfway across the world getting shot at and blown up and Regina started hyperventilating. Her breaths got shorter, and suddenly she felt like she was eighteen all over again sitting alone in the hospital waiting room being told her mother didn't make it and how she ran all the way to her father's tomb and––she paused and took deep breaths, slow movements to open up her airways again as the anxiety left her slowly through each exhale.

When she finally regained control of her lungs again, Regina didn't feel any less guilty. She couldn't call Emma back, and Sidney was useless. Resigned and more than a little bit desperate, Regina darted from the kitchen, quickly catching Henry as he played on the floor of his playroom, before whipping open her study room door, reaching her desk in two quick strides. Her drawer was yanked with such force it was a wonder it wasn't pulled off its roller as Regina dug through some files to pull out the first piece of stationary she could get her hands on.

Usually Regina took care when penning her letters to Emma. Her words were written and rewritten with the utmost clarity and precision as she strived to get in as much as she could about how they were doing and commenting on Emma's performance. Now, however, Regina reached blindly for whatever writing utensil she could get her hands on until her fingers found a pencil. She didn't even bother with the date or a "Dear Emma" of any sort. I'm sorry was the first thing she even thought to jot down as she leaned over her desk, scribbling and scratching out her words. I was frustrated––no, no excuses. It's not you––no, cliche.

I'm sorry, she wrote again. You are not a problem that needs to be dealt with. You are brave and kind and you mean so much to myself and Henry that it scares me to think of anything bad happening to you. I am so grateful that you are alive. I'm so sorry for snapping at you.

She did a threefold on the paper and placed it into an envelope then jogged quickly to her front door. As soon as she placed the letter into her mailbox her nerves numbed.

She waited.

"I can't deal with this."

Emma's breath hitched and she paused before staring at the phone. Swallowing hard, she pressed it back to her ear only to growl at the static emanating from it and pressed end on the satellite phone, slamming the device down on the table with more ferocity than needed. She was lucky the two other soldiers waiting outside the tent had given her some privacy to speak in the makeshift living room since she stood swiftly, kicked the back of an old ratty plaid couch stationed in front of a box set TV and pushed passed the flap of the tent. The two soldiers parted like the Red Sea as she stormed passed, both seeing her fists clenched and her shoulders tensed before deeming the room safe to enter.

Emma was pissed, and she was pissed for being pissed, and god fucking dammit! She kicked at the dirt and flew up a dust cloud. Who the hell gave Regina the right to be mad at her? And for what? She didn't kill anyone she wasn't supposed to kill.

Bile rose to her throat as the lifeless eyes of that mother and child she had fought so desperately to save stared back at her as allies were moving her from under the pile of rubble the following morning.

She was alive, god dammit. She did good. She did good.

"Swan!" An arm came around her neck as Kennedy swooped in from behind and placed her in a headlock. "Looking better, sweetheart."

Emma grunted against his stomach where he had her pinned and pushed hard against his waist, freeing herself and toppling him to the ground. "Fuck off."

His slack-jawed expression would have been funny if Emma hadn't been in such a foul mood. She stepped over him and made a beeline to her tent.

"The fuck, Swan?" Kennedy picked himself up and continued to follow her. "That's how you're gonna treat the guy who saved your ass?"

Emma turned suddenly, very well remembering the tip of a gun pointed between her eyes before it simply fell to the ground when a bullet had found its mark.

"Yeah," Kennedy said smug as he took a step closer, his expression dark. "Push me down again and next time I won't be so generous."

He marched away, leaving behind a flustered and tempered Emma. She bit her tongue, forcing herself not to go after him just to take out her frustrations on his annoying, good-for-nothing face, but getting written up wasn't on her agenda today, so with much effort, she turned back toward her tent finding the five cots in it empty except for Neal, sitting on the middle one, the American flag pinned proudly behind him on the tarp, his jacket and shirt off as he gingerly touched a patch of gauze covering nearly his entire left side of his neck.

Emma paused at the entrance, surprised he had been let out of the infirmary. Honestly, her squad was sure he was going to be sent to Germany because of how badly his burns had been–but then again there were people with fresh eye patches and scars so deeply engraved on their face it could have been a tattoo and they were still walking among them. His left arm was still blistered, but apparently the pus and blood had dried out leaving his arm in rolling waves of excess skin. It started at his shoulder and ran down his bicep where it crumpled at his forearm before finishing off at the back of his palm. Medals of honour were what soldiers aspired to get once they got out of army, but these medals that marked their bodies, both seen and invisible, weighed heavier than any amount of gold pinned to their breast.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to stare?" Neal teased with a smirk behind his ever growing goatee.

She had momentarily forgotten about her anger until Neal snapped her back to attention. "My mother left me on the side of a highway when I was born."

His smile dropped as he glanced to the ground shamefully. "Sorry," he muttered before clearing his throat and attempting a salvageable reprise. "What's up? Bestie problems?" He teased with a boyish grin.

Emma sat on the cot in front of him, her eyes shut and her hand in the air as she struggled to form words. "Can you just, shut up?"

His eyebrows disappeared to his hairline. "Where did that come from?"

"It's just none of your business, okay?" She snapped and lay down on her cot, putting the pillow over her face. "I'm getting some sleep. Don't wake me."

She stewed under her pillow, and though she squeezed her eyes tightly to block out the world, Regina's words kept replaying in her ear.

I can't deal with this.

How many times had Emma heard that? Not being able to deal with a three-year old because a new biological baby came along. Not believing a child that their husband was a perverted freak because the reality of the situation was too overwhelming. Not accepting the fact that Emma liked girls.

Emma had always been the problem child, and whenever those problems became too much, the solution was simple: pawn her off to another family, put her in jail, send her to fucking Iraq.

She felt hot tears sting her eyes from the unbidden emotion swirling inside her like a contained tornado, and she fought to push them down because she should have been used to it by now. But the ache in her heart throbbed harder than the past twenty years combined, and though Emma didn't want to admit it, she hated that it hurt this much for the sole reason it had come from Regina.

Wiping her face on the scratchy underside of the pillowcase, she evened her breathing and pushed away her thoughts. Now wasn't a time to be seething, but apparently it was a time to be annoyed since she felt Neal shift from his cot across from her to the one beside her. He just waited. She could feel his eyes on her, and that made her all the more pissed off because the stupid guy with his stupid perfect life couldn't take a goddamn hint.

Finally his presence grew to be too much, and she whipped off her pillow and glared. "What?"

"You look like you could use a talk," he offered lightly with a shrug of his hands.

"Then you're really bad at body language."

"Ems," he pleaded.

"My name isn't Ems," she snapped, chucking the pillow at him and sitting up. "I'm not 'man' or 'bro' or 'chick.' Just 'cause August isn't here anymore doesn't mean you have to take me under your wing like some little sister you never had. I've been alone my entire life and I can take care of myself."

He put aside the pillow and cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong!" She yelled extending her arms out to make her point. "It's fucking peachy."

"Hey, look, it sounds like you got a little cabin fever going on."

"Stop trying to pretend like you know what's best for me, Neal. You couldn't even tell your wife that you got hurt."

His eyes darkened and he shook his head, a forewarning to the blonde to stop, but with the mood she was in, she was itching for a fight from any and everyone. "I pick my battles."

"You're scared," she stated simply with a defiant chin. "You're scared she's gonna realize, just like you do, that your life here doesn't mean shit, and when you go home all your battle wounds that you killed to get are gonna chase her away."

Neal scoffed and stood, tossing the pillow back onto her stomach. "I know what I'm scared of, but don't try to push your insecurities onto me."

He turned to enter the aisle of cots when Emma stood.

"My insecurities?" She questioned with a dry laugh.

He turned abruptly and poked a finger into her chest. "Yes. Your insecurities. How you're so freaking terrified of being outed that you can't even function right."

"Have you ever been fucked straight?" Her words sobered him, but she continued with a pitying laugh at his silence. "Thought so. Because that is a hard reality for me, and it's not like I can escape it here. And what do I have left when I go home? I don't even have a fucking home. I'm just a nobody there and I'm a nobody with a gun over here."

Neal squinted as Emma pushed passed him, holding down the wince when she brushed a little too hard against his left side. All the emotion Emma kept bottled up over the past hour, even the past few months, hell, probably all her life came pouring out as she passed the aisle between the cots, tugging the severe bun she wore loose as she clutched at her scalp.

"When you're a girl in a boys' club, everyone automatically looks at you funny, but god forbid you're gay too because you're just making that target on your back even bigger, and it's not like I can just whip out a picture of Regina and tell everyone that she chose me out of all these big, macho men who constantly play the my-dick-is-bigger-than-yours game because no, I'm a jarhead, so I freak her out and scare her, and I don't ever fucking win." She paused her pacing to look squarely upon Neal, a mixture of resentment and confusion fighting for dominance over her facial features. "But you, you get the wife and the kid and when you go home Tamara's gonna kiss your burns away and you're gonna be a happy family and all the generals love you because you're still fighting here even when you should have gone home."

"Em–"

She jumped back when he took a step forward, ripping her arm away from his grasp. "No, god, how? How do you do it? We both had asshole parents. Why the hell did I get the short end of the stick? Is it 'cause I'm a girl?"

"Ems–"

"I said don't call me that!" She shrieked, stamping her foot as she held her ground, but Neal pushed forward, holding her arms still as he wrestled her stiff body to sit back down on her bed.

She resisted and tried to yank herself free, but his strength overpowered hers and soon all the tension left her body and his arms were wrapped around her in a hug, her cheek pressed against his chest as she sobbed dry tears.

"Emma," he amended quietly a long minute later when her breath stopped hitching and she was able to breathe out of her nose.

"I'm tired," she whispered hoarsely, pulling back from his chest and averting her gaze. She wouldn't allow another show to her vulnerability if she could help it, but Neal kept a comforting hand on her shoulder that was too much to resist before finally turning to look into the puppy dog face of the older man. "I'm so tired," she said again, more desperate than the last as she sniffled.

"We're gonna go home soon," he comforted, gently urging her head to rest on his good shoulder.

"I don't know where that is."

"Maine," he provided easily for her, but Emma sniffed and shook her head.

"I don't think she wants to see me again," she admitted quietly.

"I picked up on that," Neal said. "But what did she say?"

"She got mad that I got hurt."

Neal let out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, your loved ones will do that."

"She's not–"

"She is," he reassured. "That just means that they care about you. They're mad they almost lost you."

Emma bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't think that's what she meant."

"What did she mean then?"

"She said she couldn't deal with me. She's tired of worrying about me. She's really only supposed to be my penpal. It's not like she's obligated to do anything by me."

Neal shook his head again and nudged Emma's shoulder for her to look up. "I'm not gonna say anything or promise anything, but if this lady is who you've been dreaming about for years and whose kid you adore, then I think she's just as scared as you are. She might be tired of worrying about you, but she's always gonna want to worry about you than mourn you."

Emma was beginning to shake her head again when Neal smacked her upside the head. "Ow," she groaned, rubbing the back of her head with a glare.

"You may have confidence with a gun, but you're gonna need more confidence here." He pointed to her heart and nodded affirmatively before standing and rustling up her already messy hair. "Don't forget the bigger picture."

"And what's that?" Emma turned on the cot as he reached the entrance of the tent.

"Go home alive."

December 14, 2004 – Storybrooke, Maine

"Mommy, too tight." Henry squirmed as he sat on the bench in a locker room as Regina knelt in front of him and tightened up the Velcro on his learner ice skates.

"I'm sorry, dear." She loosened the Velcro and adjusted his boots again before strapping on his skates properly, focusing on her son and his field trip to the Storybrooke Recreation Centre where Tina had organized an ice skating session for the toddlers. When she finished adjusting the blade, she gave his knee a pat. "Better?"

He nodded and tugged on the ends of his winter jacket. "It's hot."

"But you'll be going on the rink soon."

"But ev'body else isn't wearing it," he pointed out petulantly.

Sure enough, Henry was the only child completely decked out in winter wear for the indoor rink. Pink princess jackets and red and black power rangers jackets were left hanging on hooks as the children wore their snow pants and sweaters. Regina frowned. "I don't want you to get sick, dear."

"I won't," he promised, crossing his heart.

Sighing, she nodded and moved to unzip his jacket, helping his arms free until he was in his knitted sweater and suspended snow pants. He grinned happily and scooted his way off the bench before tugging Regina's hand down in his stead. "Your turn."

She shook her head affectionately before taking a seat and quickly lacing up her old pair of ice skates.

"We're late, Mommy," Henry urged, tugging on her arm. She gave him a rueful look but couldn't scold his excitement despite the fact that they were the first few to finish up.

Cradling Henry in a baby pose after a few unsuccessful wobbles on his bladed boots, Regina walked gracefully in her own guarded skates as she made her way to the small rink booked for the class. Tina, already on the ice and skating backwards at flying speeds, waved to the few students ready to get on the ice before slowing down and hopping off the rink.

"Woah," Henry awed up at his teacher before looking up to his mother. "Can you do that?"

"Not unless I want a broken leg." She set him down on the rubber ground and took his hand to help him steady before nodding at the teacher. "Why do I get the feeling you encouraged all the parents to come out so you didn't have to watch any children as you skated at a discounted rate?"

"I'll have you know that parental bonding is a key step in child development," Tina said pointedly ushering a couple students and their moms and dads out onto the rink before putting her skate guards back on to check on the other students.

Regina stepped onto the freshly zambonied ice and offered her hand to Henry. "Would you like a pylon, dear?"

The boy stuck his tongue out between his teeth as he tested the slipperiness of the ice with a little pressure from his foot, but that was all he needed to instantly lose his balance and slip haphazardly on the ice, grasping onto Regina's arm and leg for dear life.

"Woah, woah, wooaah!" He flailed, gripping Regina just as she held him under his arms to his feet.

"I think you need that pylon now." Regina motioned to the other children slipping and sliding gracelessly as they held onto the top of a pylon the size as they were.

"No," he said determinedly. "I can do it by myself."

She smiled fondly and moved in front of him, crouching low and holding the very tips of his fingers as he took the tiniest baby steps forward.

"Good job, Henry," Tina called as she skated by them, making her rounds to all the students who had finally made it out of the change room and onto the ice.

He was distracted momentarily by his teacher's praise to grin happily and wave. The sudden movement of his arm made his balance falter, and suddenly he was flailing all over again and fell to the ice with a hard thump. It was the shock more than the impact that made his bottom lip jut out and his eyes water.

"Henry!" Regina gasped and quickly knelt to the ground, struggling to lift Henry up to his feet while simultaneously attempting to keep balance.

His lip quivered and his cheeks reddened, and Regina knew what was coming next.

Like a clockwork his mouth opened and a loud wail erupted from the small boy. Tears streamed down his face as he helped Regina lift him by scurrying into her arms. Regina pulled him easily into her arms, but when she stood, walking on skates while holding a bawling three-year old was like running a marathon on ice. She was the sole person going the opposite way as the class of ten and their parents skated clumsily around the rink. She barely remembered to apologized as she kept to the barrier attempting to avoid them and finally made her way to the bleachers.

Henry was still crying as he nursed his wrist. Regina sat him down and took his hands in hers, checking frantically over his body. "Sweetheart, what hurts?"

He pointed to his hand that was reddened by the fall, and Regina cursed herself for not making sure he had worn his gloves and mittens.

"Do you want to go home?"

He shook his head as his whimpers died down, sniffling once before wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"Are you sure? We can sit down for a minute."

He shook his head more insistently this time, hurrying to wipe his eyes as if to prove he was still capable of skating though they still kept watering and his bottom lip was still pouting.

"Henry, I know you're a big boy–"

"I can do it," he said leaving no room for argument. There was no doubt who his mother was in that instant, and the twinge of pride bursting in Regina's chest couldn't be helped.

Frowning for a moment, Regina nodded and helped him to his feet. He held her hand tightly as they approached the rink once more, but this time he held on to the divider wall as he inched his way onto the ice. Most of his classmates had taken up the pylons with a few already expert skaters holding their parent's hand easily as they went around the rink. A couple were sliding along the ice on their knees, keeping to the middle of the rink to avoid anyone's path while Henry stumbled along the wall.

"There you go," Regina encouraged as he passed millimeter after millimeter.

He slipped and fell to his knee but refused Regina's help when she reached down to lift him. Instead, he used the wall as a crutch to lift himself upright, grinning proudly up at his mother when he didn't go stumbling to the ground. Regina moved in front of him, a foot away as she held out her hands to encourage him forward. The sudden image of teaching her nine-month old how to walk came to the forefront of her mind, and she grinned realizing that this was exactly like that. It amazed her how seemingly insignificant moments continued to be her fondest memories.

"Slowly, Henry," she encouraged. "Take your time."

She nearly yelled at him when he removed his hand from the wall, walk-skating forward determinedly, but she refrained as he put one skate in front of the other. He lost his balance but found it again, but the interruption seemed to give him momentum as he all but ran the final few steps forward into Regina's reach.

"I did it!" He cheered happily, his arms tight around Regina's neck.

"You did!" She beamed, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Again?"

By the end of the hour, Henry had made his way around the ice rink all by himself with only a handful of falls under his belt. Regina was just grateful there were no sliced hands given the sharpness of his training skates, but she was thrilled that Henry had learned and improved. She was just helping him off of the ice, joining the procession of parents and children making their way back to the change rooms and to the party room Tina had booked for their lunch when Henry asked, "Can we show Emma I can skate now?"

Regina masked her expressions at the sound of the soldier's name and did her best not to show anything but excitement and support in front of her son. In her worry and paranoia of how things had left off with Emma, she failed to realize that Henry would also be affected should the soldier disappear from his life. It unnerved her and frightened her and excited her all at the same time. "Of course, dear," she finally answered.

"We can go when it snows and then we can build snowmen and snow angels and have hot chocolate and build snow angels and eat snow," he planned excitedly, talking through as Regina lifted him onto the bench and unstrapped his training skates, completely ignoring his mother's surprised face at his last plan. "I'm gonna buy her skates for Christmas and we can go skating."

"Are you?" Regina asked amused.

"Yeah," he nodded determinedly.

Tina clapped once and then thrice more in quick succession, and all the children in the change room stopped what they were doing to mimic their teacher.

"Okay, kiddies, who wants some hot chocolate?"

The class cheered their agreement before ushering their parents to where Tina had led them. It was there as Henry sat at a table with styrofoam cups of lukewarm hot chocolate and marshmallows that Regina was given the time to herself, and lately that time was usually spent half worrying about Emma and half scolding herself. Especially given her latest realization that more than two hearts could be broken should anything go awry made Regina's stomach churn.

Regina always prided herself on being the best she could be. Her mother had instilled that in her from a young age, and it only continued to morph until Regina was a meticulous perfectionist. Many adjectives she could use to describe herself – resourceful, cunning, passionate.

But right now she just felt like an ass in this room of hyper children and sociable parents.

The very next day after their argument, she had received a letter from the soldier dated close to a month back reassuring Regina that she was fine. She read the letter over and over again as if that could speak on Emma's behalf. Regina was foolish to think that it could remotely be her accepting her apology, but the brunette was just that desperate.

Hey, Emma had said.

I know it's been a while, but I'm still here. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. We went out on one of those missions, kind of like in the movies, you know. Except scarier and 3D with the moving seats and everything. But I'm okay. I got a couple cuts here and there. Nothing I can't handle. I just wanted to let you and the kid know. More you really. Don't tell Henry.

I miss you so much.

Yours,

Emma

The soldier didn't always have the neatest penmanship, but from the shakiness and weak pressure of the lettering, Regina could tell Emma hadn't been a hundred percent when she had written the letter. The fact that she had pushed passed whatever pain she was feeling just to let Regina know as soon as she could possibly and realistically manage made the guilt that had ruminated overnight increase tenfold.

What made matters worse was that she really had no other way of contacting Emma, and lest the blonde decide to brace the static and pick up the phone again, Regina was in the dark indefinitely.

It drove her mad, and it was her own doing.

For the most part, she was trying to remain calm. Abandoning Emma would most certainly not be the last thing she would ever say to the soldier. It wasn't even necessarily abandonment – more of a frustrated heat of the moment brash comment that had the potential to end whatever was going on between them. Knowing her luck it just would be the last thing she ever said to Emma. But the world wasn't that cruel. Right? She swallowed hard and pushed the niggling voice in her head that reminded her that yes, the world could be an awful place sometimes.

She had no idea where she stood with Emma. Dear god, what if the soldier didn't even bother to read her letter? That thought had only just occurred to Regina and it made her worrying double. No, she promised herself. No, they'd be fine. It was just a little argument. Nothing they couldn't get over.

But what if she gets hurt again? Badly this time. What if–

"You didn't get your cocoa." Tina sat across Regina and handed an adult-sized carry away mug to the ruminating brunette.

Regina blinked, taking in Tina's presence before shaking her head politely. "I'm not much of a chocolate drinker."

"We're fresh out of apple cider."

"I doubt it would hold up to my own even if you did have it."

The daycare teacher grinned and sipped her own hot beverage and nodded her head toward Henry's table where he was accompanied by three other girls. "Quite the ladies' man," Tina teased.

Regina rolled her eyes and scowled, though the upward curl of her lips showed Tina the comment wasn't completely disregarded. "Are you playing fairy godmother, now?"

"I'm just pointing out the obvious. He certainly has you and Emma wrapped around his finger."

The truth of the statement made Regina laugh, but she held back just a little bit at the mere mention of the soldier.

"Hey, what was that?" Tina asked quietly, ducking her head to give them a tad bit more privacy.

Immediately the mask Regina was so used to putting on appeared, and the Mayor shook her head insistently. "I have no idea to which you're referring to, dear."

They preschool teacher looked at her thoughtfully before shaking her head, an almost bemused smile on her face as she frowned. "I thought we were making progress as friends."

"You're Henry's teacher."

Tina rolled her eyes and stood. "Okay, Ms. Mills."

Regina frowned watching the curly-haired blonde depart and crouch down to Henry's table, engaging him and the other little girls on how they enjoyed skating. It amazed her how much energy Tina was able to exert when interacting with children and then spend her evenings taking Pan's boys under her guidance. The younger woman was doing so much, and Regina could barely even talk to her. She wouldn't blame the preschool teacher if she eventually gave up making small talk with her, and Tina had been right. They had been becoming something akin to friends over the month. Whether it was her self-deprecating attitude or something innate, Regina wasn't sure, but she could feel herself pushing others away, but this time she cared about the consequences.

She took a deep breath and sighed, adding Tina Bell to her already guilty conscious before taking a sip of the hot cocoa.

"I'll teach you how to skate, Un-ca August," Henry said determinedly on the phone that night when Regina had called the Sergeant.

The man chuckled. "I don't know, kid, what if I'm too slow for you?"

"It's okay," Henry nodded reassuringly. "I was slow too, but now I can go really, really, really, really fast."

"Really, really fast?" The man clarified.

"Yup. I went around one whole time all by myself."

"Holy smokes, kid, don't let the other kids get jealous of you."

Henry giggled proudly. "At school I made gifts for Mommy and Emma."

Regina's ears perked up at that. It was the first she had heard of such a craft since Henry usually loved filling her in on every little detail. Already she had heard what had gone down on the skating trip she was clearly present for, but she loved every minute of her child's story telling.

"Shhhh," Henry shushed dramatically, putting a finger to his lips though August had no way of seeing. "It's a secret."

"I won't tell anyone," August promised.

Regina pressed a hand to Henry's back. "Say goodbye to Uncle August, dear, it's nearly time for your bath."

Henry jutted out his bottom lip but said a goodbye nonetheless and handed the phone to his mother. Regina held it in one hand while helping Henry off the barstool, the boy already forgetting his disappointment in his haste to get in a few more minutes of playtime.

"Hello," Regina said quietly into the phone, keeping an ear open for Henry.

"You okay?" August asked straight away. "You two usually call on Sundays."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interfere with any of your plans," Regina rushed to apologize.

"You're not," he reassured.

"I realize it's late notice, but you're more than welcome to spend a few days with us for the holidays. I understand Ms. Lucas will also be in town." Her last statement should have very well been teasing, but it was more a mayoral proposition than good fun between two friends. If August heard the flat tone, he said nothing, struck by Regina's generosity.

"Thank you," August said with a quiet sincerity then gruffed out a chuckle before he got too sentimental. "Too bad Emma couldn't come home. We could have made it a big family thing."

"We had a fight." The statement was out just before August was able to finish his sentence. The weeks of silence had been killing Regina, and the Mayor was not used to waiting. "Do you know how I can get in contact with her through different channels or anything?" Regina asked more than a little desperate.

August exhaled a long breath. "Not for you, no."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Regina asked haughtily.

"Regina," August began slowly, "As far as the army knows, Emma Swan has no family. No friends. She's the perfect candidate for a soldier because the moment you sign up, you become that social security number strapped around your neck."

"What about you? Can you find her?" Regina ran a hand through her hair, ruffling the intricately brushed locks. "I need to – she needs to know I'm sorry. She's probably furious with me or worse."

"Regina," August said calmly, interrupting the tangent the brunette was sure to go on. When he quieted, he exhaled again. "I can see what I can do."

"What if something happened to her?" Regina asked imploringly.

"Don't worry about that."

"Why would I not worry about that?" Regina hissed.

"Because if something happened to her, I know people who would tell me as soon as it happened. The army is very good at letting families know of any casualties before it hits media."

Regina swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, leaning her back against the wall beside the corded phone and trying to get her bearings. After a beat she nodded more determinedly. "Okay. Okay."

"Relax," August insisted.

"You're not going to ask what we fought about?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It's not important." Regina squinted at his response. "Whatever it was, you two will be okay."

"How can you possibly know that?"

August let out a dry laugh, different from the usual amused smirk or knowing laughter Regina had always heard from the Sergeant. "I've been there, remember? No matter what pisses you off at home, that's the only place you want to go to."

December 16, 2004 – Undisclosed Location, Iraq

"Do you notice Spencer only shows up whenever something goes wrong?" Neal asked aloud, wrinkling his nose as he inspected a dilapidated car, bullet holes riddled all sides of it and blood staining the interior.

"And when we do something good so he makes sure everyone knows we're under his charge," Fred added from the guard point.

Emma and her group of five including their new Sergeant, Denny Cabrera, a toned Hispanic with a strong jaw and even stronger stomach. Rumour had it that he was the only one to clear away the massacred and desecrated bodies of a village after a metal rainstorm from all sides without losing his breakfast. The troops that hadn't been there had heard horror stories of what had gone down. So many civilian lives lost. But Cabrera had cleared it out to precision without batting an eye.

Now, Emma and her squad were in one of those abandoned villages, left a ghost town from either willing locals trying desperately to escape the war or forced by gunfire and explosions, leaving behind the abandoned clay and stone buildings as their only sign that humanity once resided here.

Emma pulled away metal sheets that had once been the roofs of many of these buildings. It was a sad, sorry thought as the indentations under her fingertips from bullets piercing the metal felt like the giant chasm of the Grand Canyon. It was like a child who believed that hiding under a blanket could protect them from the boogeyman. This sheet of metal that was prime for holding off the occasional rainwater and kept the burning sun away despite the humidity it caused inside the house was just a sheet of metal in the end, and the boogeyman was more powerful than an image in the shadows giving away nightmares.

A burned and torn hand-stitched doll lay hidden under the debris as if it too was seeking shelter from the chaos its owner faced. Bile rose to Emma's throat as she bent down to pick it up. The doll's head swung back only staying with the body because of a few durable stitches. Without permission, her mind summoned an image similar to the toy, child-sized and just as inanimate as the piece of cloth and straw she held between her fingers. Shutting her eyes tight barely warded the though away. Jesus Christ. There were some things you just can't unsee.

"Swan," Cabrera commanded a few yards away from her. The doll fell to the ground, catching the metal sheet with a soft clank. "Wake up Kennedy. Get some rest."

"Yes, sir," she said with a nod, sparing one final glance to the doll before walking across the road to one of the better preserved buildings. Kennedy lay in the shade under an awning, and Emma used her boot to nudge him awake.

He jerked awake suddenly, squinting at the brightness of the sun reflecting off the sand. "That didn't even feel like an hour," he complained, stretching his limbs and shutting his eyes again.

"Get used to it." The blonde plopped down beside him though he still remained sitting. "Thought you'd be home eating that turkey dinner by now?"

Kennedy glared but there was a disappointed gleam in his eye as he situated his gun further into his lap. "My parents would have thrown me this huge welcome back party."

"Sounds like the life," the blonde said flatly.

Ken was quiet for a moment before shaking his head. "This place feels like hell."

"Yeah," Emma agreed trying to get comfortable as she adjusted her gun to her side and nestled in a corner. "But it's home to a lot of people."

"They're crazy."

"You joined the army," she pointed out. "Who's the crazy one?"

Kennedy smirked amused at her comment before finally standing up and taking inventory of their find. Cabrera had radioed in when they had located the abandoned village, and Spencer had ordered them to remain where they were. Nothing more, nothing less. Apparently even their Sergeant wasn't privy to Spencer's inner circle, so he had them excavating the small houses and keeping watch until Spencer's arrival.

Though Emma had become accustomed to turning anything into a makeshift bed for the night – a couch, the dirt ground, the backseat of her bug – she found she couldn't catch a break with trying to rest up no matter how many times she was ordered to. This time was no different as she took a sip of her water and rested her head against the wall. Whenever sleep overcame her, the same images of Hussein's wife and child as they lay face down in the dirt assaulted her mind. Spencer had applauded her for taking out the threat, but at what cost? To him it was worth it, but to Emma, the sounds of that child crying was on repeat in her mind. Worse were the times when she imagined it was Regina and Henry, broken and bloody, the last flecks of hope diminishing in matching brown eyes, and when that happened, there was no way she would be sleeping anytime soon.

Ten minutes of closing her eyes before ripping them open again passed before Emma gave up on the notion of sleeping. Everyone else was scavenging the area, Neal and Kennedy entering a building to the east side, Cabrera clearing out a room opposite, while Fred remained vigilant at point.

She sighed and tucked her hand into her pocket to pull out the pictures she kept on her person. She rarely had a space that was permanently her own, so she had refrained from pinning up anything and had to tuck Rex away into her trunk at base, but these two pictures she kept with her always. The one of her and Regina and the one of the women and Henry at his birthday decked out in costume had been folded in half and well worn from constant use.

Ten days ago, she had been too upset at everything to find comfort in them, but as soon as that feeling settled, she slapped herself over the head for such thoughts. The day she couldn't look at their picture was the day she'd be dead. Her talk with Neal had helped, though now and again it was a little awkward to look the man in the eye since Emma admitted just the tiniest hint of jealousy for his life. He never brought it up again, and for that she was grateful.

She had been so used to no one caring about her that finally having someone who did was like a complete one-eighty. She and Regina needed to talk when she returned, that Emma put a tack on in the back of her mind, but her anger lasted all of one day before she was missing the feel of Regina under her arm as they curled up on the couch or the way Henry hugged her neck tightly while she did push ups. She finally had special people in her life, and she had to get used to the concern they showed. What made it harder was that her squad had been sent on patrols and road block duties so often that Emma didn't have the time or resources to write to Regina. A phone call in the middle of nowhere was out of the question.

She just hoped Regina wasn't still mad at her. Emma had moved from home to home a great deal in her life, but for the first time, she wasn't quite ready to give this one up. If Regina truly had had enough of being responsible for Emma then the soldier would understand. In the back of her mind Emma prepared for it–it was her natural instinct to protect herself. But realizing the turmoil Regina must be going through put their little dispute into perspective and made Emma appreciate the brunette all the more. Sometimes she wondered who had it worse: the soldier risking their life or the loved one back home ignorant to the status of their soldier.

Rock and dirt crunching under tire growled in the otherwise quiet air. A large truck pulled up along the road, and Emma rolled her eyes to see Spencer step out from the passenger side. A small flurry of troops departed from the bed of the vehicle, bringing flood lights and provisions with them as they silently worked on unspoken orders.

"Swan." She was the first Spencer made eye contact with as the rest of her team approached from their various locations. She stood hastily, pocketing her pictures, but the one of her, Regina, and Henry fluttered the to ground. Despite his approaching figure, Emma rushed to pick it up, but a big, heavy boot came over the photograph. "What's this?"

Emma had no choice but to straighten back up and stare straight ahead as Spencer bent down, removed his boot, and lifted the already wrinkled picture now covered in dirt and grime. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until the swirls of dizziness and nausea set in, but still, Spencer continued to gaze studiously at the picture, his eyes amused by the upward curl of Emma's lips as she beamed into the camera and the brightness of her eyes, far different than the shifty, dullness that now currently stood before him.

With a simple glare to the men around him, Spencer dismissed them giving him and Emma the space for privacy. Her pulse quickened under her uniform, but she otherwise appeared impassive.

"This is yours, soldier," Spencer pointed out the obvious, extending the picture to Emma but clearly not giving it up.

"Yes, sir," Emma said flatly.

Spencer raised an eyebrow as the corner of his lips curled in amusement, like a predator stalking its prey, but Emma continued to hold his gaze and kept her back straight offering no other explanation.

"Attractive little thing," he said quietly, the pad of his finger stroking over Regina's face.

Emma's eyes darted to the picture, but she kept her breathing even before addressing him again. "Yes, sir."

He smirked at the picture and licked his lips. His voice was quiet, a thought spoken out loud, but it was clearly meant for Emma's ears as he commented. "I wouldn't mind breaking that in."

Emma blinked.

Spencer squinted, waiting for the reaction that didn't come.

"And the boy–"

"My godson, sir," she interrupted, prepared for whatever consequence at that blatant disrespect, but Spencer simply looked at Emma, hearing past the lie, to back down at the picture and scoffed with undisguised disgust.

He leaned in closer, his breath beating down the front of her face as he snarled. "Straighten up, soldier." Tossing the picture at her chest before it sank to the ground, he turned and addressed Cabrera. "Sergeant, you and your men are ordered to stay here until further notice. Aerial sightings suggest this to be a stop point of some kind. . ."

Emma didn't hear the rest of his commands as she stooped down to pick up the picture, stuffing it back into her pocket. Her face showed to be taking in every word of the General, but her mind kept swimming with a fear she hadn't felt since she was a teen. What did Spencer know? What did he think he knew? Regardless, all she knew was that she wanted to go home.

December 27, 2004 – Storybrooke, Maine

"You'll come back for this?" Regina asked hopefully.

Emma chuckled and let the necklace go, shaking her head as wayward wisps of blonde hair rubbed against Regina's own locks. "I'll come back for you."

Regina grinned and tugged Emma to her by the back of the neck, connecting their lips more passionately and less timidly than they had ventured mere seconds ago. The blonde's firm weight pressed rightly against her own, and as Emma's hand found Regina's lower back, Emma guided Regina down onto the bed. Bare legs tangled amidst the sheets, hands wandered over the contours of their bodies, and hot breath mingled so fluidly between the women as they broke their kiss just to start all over again.

Regina couldn't suppress the giggle as Emma pulled away, tugging a plump lip along with her then releasing it to excavate the expanse of neck as Regina tilted her head back on the bed, her throat quivering under Emma's lips.

"I wanted to do this for so long," Emma whispered against heated flesh before nipping at the juncture between Regina's shoulder and neck.

The brunette's breath hitched before she buried her hands in yellow locks and tugged Emma up until their foreheads were pressed together. The air between them was thick with tension, and Emma's eyes dilated with a desire that Regina hadn't felt in ages.

"Really?" The wonderment in chocolate eyes made Emma crawl up to her knees until she was straddling the older woman and cupped her face between both palms.

"Regina, you're my best friend." She smiled so brightly, the bedside light appeared dim in comparison. Regina wanted to look away and hide her pleased embarrassment, but Emma's beaming face was much too pleasant to miss. "You're more than that. There's not much else I thought about when I realized that."

Regina searched Emma's intense stare as if detecting one last time for any lie, but all she saw was sincerity. With her last resolve she tilted her head up and kissed Emma hard. Her leg came up, nestling in between Emma's parted ones, and with a well-placed hand on the soldier's toned back, their bodies collided firmly again.

Emma moaned as Regina's repositioned leg came in contact with a part of her body that was just as aching as Regina's. It was an accident really, but one neither woman could complain about. Emma returned to letting her lips trail down an olive neck and subtly shifted so that her position mimicked Regina's from the top, and soon, a chorus of moans and throaty gasps filled the air.

With a strength Regina rarely showed, she locked a leg around Emma's and flipped the blonde onto her back, Emma yelping in surprise. Regina simply smirked, her hands trailing up Emma's stomach and pushing the fabric of her tank top up as she went. Toned muscles rippled under her touch, and Emma gasped when Regina stopped just shy of unveiling her breasts.

"Regina." Her name on Emma's lips was quiet plea, a whisper, a prayer, a promise.

And as Regina woke slowly from her sleep, an ache in her heart more intense than the throbbing in her core, not for the first time she cursed herself that she and Emma hadn't done more that night, or that week for that matter. Carnal desire wasn't what she craved whenever Regina wondered about what could occur between herself and Emma. On more than one occasion had she had a similar dream, but in the end, she just wanted to feel Emma pressed against her, know that she's there.

When Regina adopted Henry, she knew she would never again have another lonely Christmas with a little too much eggnog and way too much time on her hands to mull over the fact that another year was passing, and she was alone. This past Christmas held a hollowness to it where a certain blonde haired soldier no doubt would have filled the void, and Henry had felt it too.

The days leading up to Christmas kept the pair busy as they spent a full day putting up their Christmas tree. Regina had learned that although real trees smelled delightful, after their first year where eight-month old Henry tended to play a little too closely to the tree to see the sparkly lights and wound up getting poked and prodded by the sharp pine needles, or worse putting them in his mouth, that they needed a real Christmas tree simply wasn't practical. Putting together the artificial tree was much more pleasant to do as Henry had helped to pull apart the branches, though the ball of artificial snow had him rolling around in the cotton like a cat around string.

Then they had the annual Christmas party where Regina had suffered through numerous photo ops and Henry kept pilfering gingerbreads from the sweets table. Regina had even apologized to Tina Bell who was one of Santa's elves that year. The younger blonde smiled sincerely, and later that night Regina had overhead her speaking with Ruby that Christmas miracles do happen. Any other time Regina would have reprimanded her for such a statement, but the brunette just rolled her eyes affectionately and let it slide.

Within the blink of an eye, it was Christmas Eve, and Regina was chasing an overexcited Henry around the house, his reindeer house slippers sliding on the polished hardwood as he turned corners to avoid his mother before darting up the stairs and tucking himself into her bed where he cuddled under the covers with a pleased and innocent smirk on his face.

"Santa's coming tonight," Henry whispered excitedly when Regina finally appeared at her bedroom door slightly out of breath.

"Santa will only come if you go to sleep," Regina said gently as she sidled into bed, knowing that attempting to move Henry into his would be a futile decision. Besides, who knew how quickly he would tire of being Mommy's bestest friend, so she soaked it up when she could.

Henry grinned and promptly shut his eyes before curling an arm around his mother's neck. "Was I good, Mommy?"

Regina pressed a kiss to his forehead as her hand rubbed soothing circles on his back. "You're the best."

Henry hadn't felt like the best that Christmas Day, and it broke Regina's heart to find out why.

Like any toddler on Christmas morning, Henry woke at the crack of dawn and it took much persuasion on Regina's part to get him to sleep for at least another hour. He hadn't visited dreamland as his mother would have liked, but at least he was laying still and quiet, if not a bit fidgety, for the forty-five minutes, so Regina showed him some mercy and helped him down the stairs where he raced to the Christmas tree, finding the presents Santa had placed under there in the middle of the night.

He had been preoccupied for a while, opening presents and oblivious to the pictures Regina kept constantly snapping. Now and then he would pause to take a bite out of the cinnamon and raisin oatmeal Regina had prepared, but when the mess was cleaned up and under the tree was bare, Henry continued to search under, around, and in the tree for more.

"Henry, what are you looking for?" Regina asked, placing the clay-mold handprint Henry had made for her on the side table.

"Can't find it," he gruffed, dropping to his belly and looking under the couch.

"You can't find what, dear?"

"My present." He moved to the fireplace and peered upward to see if it had gotten stuck in the chimney.

"That's all Santa brought," Regina said confused. She was sure she had gotten everything on his list.

"No!" He stomped a foot and pouted before running back to the tree for another look.

"Henry," Regina warned disapprovingly when the tree wobbled in its stand. She walked to him and crouched to his level. His lip quivered and his eyes were already filling with tears. "It wouldn't be fair if you got all the presents, would it?"

"I was go-oo-oo-ood!" The final word came out in a loud cry as Henry collapsed into his mother's embrace.

Regina instinctively cradled him, carrying his sobbing form to the couch and sitting him on her knee. He pulled the collar of his pj top up to cover his eyes as he cried into the shirt.

"I know you where very good, but sometimes Santa can't give you everything you want."

"But–b–but–" he blubbered and wiped at his eyes with his forearms and collar before staring pleadingly at his mother. "But I wanted it!"

"What did you want?"

"Emma!" A fresh wave of tears struck his cheeks before he fell limp into Regina's neck.

The brunette woman paused when the word hit her ears, and all she could do was press her cheek to the top of Henry's head and rub his back. She could have tried to tell him that Uncle August was visiting soon, that Rex was now a married dino with Henry's new Mrs. Rexy, or that a small amount of snow fell during the night, but Regina knew none of those things could ever make up for Emma's absence that day.

"Me too, sweetie," Regina whispered into his hair. "Me too."

Henry had relatively settled down for the remainder of the day, but the usually energetic boy became shy when he came down from his room, clutching his backpack and producing two art crafts made of a paper plate cut into a triangle with a circle at its tip for the head, baby blue wings glued to the back, and a clothes pin hot glue gunned to the base to be clipped to the tree. One had brown string glued for its hair while the other had long, yellow strands, and both had gold pipe cleaner halos glued to the top of the head. It didn't take a genius for Regina to deduce who they represented and who they were for, but the brunette smiled happily, if not a little watery, promising Henry they'd show Emma when she returned.

The family had spent the rest of the day playing with Henry's new toys and marathoning the House of Mouse before having a feast for dinner that was far more than two people could handle. Regina had indulged in two bowls of rocky road ice cream and constantly played with her necklace, well Emma's. She couldn't help but think this was break-up behaviour and refused to have such juvenile thoughts until she took another hefty bite of ice cream and distracted herself by helping Henry show Mrs. Rexy around the house.

Even now, two days later, Regina woke still feeling like the holidays weren't quite right. She had sent Emma a Christmas gift weeks prior despite their dispute, and the wait never ceased to drive Regina mad. Pulling herself out of bed, she mused over the chores she had to get done today for August's arrival the day after next. She stopped by Henry's room, content to find her son snuggled into bed with Mrs. Rexy and Junior under each arm. The covers were kicked off and one leg was hanging off the bed––all signs of a good sleep. Deciding not to wake him, Regina showered and dressed for the day, donning leggings and a long sweater.

It took her an hour to tidy up the kitchen and the living room, and by that time, Henry had sleepily stumbled into the kitchen where she was cleaning out the fridge. He hugged her back from behind and nestled into the crook of her shoulder blades, his breathing already evening as if he were ready to fall asleep all over again.

"Good morning, my little prince." She reached an arm around her to steady Henry before turning on the spot and pulling him into her arms. "Did you sleep well?"

He held up Mrs. Rexy frowning. "She had a nightmare."

"Oh?" Regina mimicked her son's expression. "About what?"

"She misses Rex."

Regina tsked softly and gave Mrs. Rexy a kiss to the head. "I'm sure Rex misses her too. Did you give her lots of hugs?"

He nodded dutifully.

"As long as she's with you and Rexy Jr., she'll be okay."

Henry nodded again in agreement before giving a wet kiss to his mother's cheek. Regina smiled softly, watching him gallop off to the washroom where he'd no doubt try to brush his dinosaur's teeth, but there were worse things his toys had suffered and had lived to tell the tale.

She went to follow him to make sure another toilet incident wouldn't occur when the ringing phone distracted her from her path. Passing the washroom to see Henry, in fact, using a thankfully dry tooth brush on Mrs. Rexy, Regina entered her office and picked up the cordless phone.

She gasped and her stomach dropped when the voice she had waited weeks to hear sounded through the receiver.

"Hi."

AN: I am evil.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Disclaimer in Chapter One

AN: It's safe to say that I'm getting more and more terrible at answering my emails and responding to your reviews, but I just want to say that I am so thankful for you guys! Thank you for reading, reviewing, and subscribing! The odd times I'm on tumblr I'm seeing fantastic art work and edits, and it really leaves me speechless. I'm really glad you're enjoying it, and yes, yes I am evil. In case anyone was wondering, I did not win the scavenger hunt.

Overdue, but shoutout to Zeighert who has been helpful with military stuff and even recommended a great series. If you've got the time check out Over There for a good show about military life both at home and at the front.

Warning: Violence

"Hi."

Regina's voice caught in her throat at the sound of Emma's almost shy, sheepish tone, but through some miracle, or through sheer determination and will power, Regina forced her vocal chords into action.

"I'm sorry."

Her words came out in one fell swoop like a gush of wind forced out of her lungs. So desperate to speak to the blonde, to say so many things, the thoughts simply scrambled inside her brain like pasta in a stirring spot and left her flustered and stammering. "I–I'm so sorry, Em."

"I know," Emma replied softly. "All your letters and packages since then have said as much. They sort of let my mail pile up and gave it to me for the holidays."

The brunette gave a nervous chuckle, still unsure where they stood. "I can't tell if that's cruel or genius."

"It's necessary," the soldier filled in. "I only just got back late last night."

Regina stopped herself from hurling questions at Emma, wrapping an arm around her midsection to physically restrain herself from bombarding the soldier. "Are you okay?" And though she tried to hide it, even she could hear the strain in her own voice.

"I am now." Regina grinned and exhaled, releasing her arm and leaning more firmly against her desk. When she opened her mouth to speak again, Emma beat her to the punch. "I'm sorry too."

Regina squinted and shook her head. "What for?"

"I shouldn't have hung up."

"I thought the line cut out," the brunette admitted.

Emma chuckled guiltily. "Can we go with that instead?"

"There's no need to make excuses for me, Emma. I realize I was being difficult." With a thoughtful tilt of her head, Regina added. "I would have done the same."

Emma laughed again, this time more amused and content before a comfortable silence passed between them. "Merry Christmas," the blonde whispered as if it were the state's biggest secret, and she was risking life and limb to reveal it to Regina.

"Merry Christmas, Emma." Regina walked over to the leather couch in her office, musing over the fact that over half a year ago, Emma had been sitting on this very couch, stumbling through Storybrooke and unintentionally further lodging herself into Regina and Henry's lives. "You said you got in last night?"

"Yeah," the blonde confirmed, waiting for the buzz of static to die down before continuing. "It wasn't really a white Christmas for our squad."

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. It seemed that once Regina had started to get the hang of apologies, they came tumbling out for any and all events.

"I've had worse," Emma dismissed. "Just before juvie, this ice storm knocked the heat and power out at the Johnson's. I would have laughed and asked them if that was God's will if my lips weren't frozen shut."

Regina frowned at that admission. "There's a turkey dinner here with your name on it," she enticed almost shyly as if the promise alone could make up Emma's lack of Christmases.

A wanting groan sounded from the younger woman's end. "Don't tease me."

Regina laughed lightly, the guilty weight on her shoulders slowly lifting with each second spent speaking with the blonde-haired woman who had grown to become so much to her.

"It was nice to see hot chocolate and pictures on my bed though," Emma commented. "You made Henry's elf costume?"

"He wasn't fond of standing still as I measured him. Speaking of, guess who made you a gift?"

"If it's not Storybrooke's Mayor, then I'm all out of guesses," Emma teased earning a throaty chuckle from the brunette. "Did he actually?"

"It's supposed to be a surprise."

"Save it for when I get back?" She hoped.

"Of course I will," Regina promised with determination. "Do you have time to speak with Henry?"

"I was banking on it."

Regina grinned and stood from the couch, keeping the phone cradled to her ear with a firm shoulder as if the act alone could bring Emma any closer. Finding her son in his playroom sitting around a miniature table with Junior, Mrs. and Sea Turtle as his companions, Regina cocked a head and called for his attention. He ran to her and she crouched down to his level, putting the phone on speaker and keeping her balance with a hand on Henry's back.

There was static on the line for a few seconds before the blonde's voice crackled through the phone. "Hey, kid."

"Emma!" Henry jumped up and down, clasping his hands around the cordless using it as his anchoring pole.

The bouncing moved Regina helter-skelter, so showing mercy to her knees, she sat cross-legged in the threshold of Henry's playroom and brought her excited son into her lap, holding the phone out in front of them.

"Emma, you here?!" He screamed into the phone.

The soldier chuckled, and Regina envisioned the blonde shaking her head and running lithe fingers through always-contained curls. "No, kid, I'm still at work."

Henry pouted. "Why? When you coming home? I made you a Christmas present."

"I heard," the blonde said impressed.

"It's a surprise," Henry said matter-of-fact.

"I can't wait to see it." Though Henry was satisfied with the answer, Regina could hear the shakiness in Emma's voice. It was longing and pain and happiness all mixed into one. She really couldn't wait to see Henry's gift.

"Un-ca August is coming over," Henry informed her.

"Is he?" Emma asked surprised.

"I invited him over for the holidays," Regina explained. "He'll be arriving in a couple days."

"Lucky. He gets to hang out with the coolest kid."

"Don't worry, soldier," Regina added quickly to evade the yearning that she could hear creeping into Emma's tone. "When you come home, Henry will be all over you and you may just forget about little old me."

Emma snorted, the teasing lifting her mood significantly. "Forget you? That's impossible."

Regina blushed prettily, hugging Henry to her chest as if that alone could ease the inflating feeling happening behind her rib cage. "Good," she said with a quiet contentment.

"Did Santa bring you and Mommy good stuff?"

They continued talking with Henry going so far as to grabbing the camcorder that his mother nearly gasped at him to handle with care to show, or listen rather, to Henry's Christmas concert where his class did a rendition of Must Be Santa. It took much to pry the three-year old away from the phone, but Regina managed to do it with the promise he would hear from Emma soon. With a sad goodbye from Emma's end and promising to take him ice skating and to build snow men and make snow angels, Henry relinquished the cordless and handed the device back to his mother where he galloped back to his table telling Rexy and Mrs. that Rex sends his love.

Regina retreated to her study once more sensing that her phone call with Emma would soon be coming to a close no matter how much she wished for time to stand still. She settled back into the couch with the cordless pressed to her ear once more and sighed.

"How have you been?" Emma asked.

Regina let her head rest against the back of the couch and nodded minutely. "Honestly? I've been going crazy wondering if I've pushed you away, and then the scenarios my mind came up with–I very much appreciate your phone call."

Emma chuckled, and there was an almost proud and pleased tone about it. "Does that simplify to mean you miss me?"

"So much."

It was Emma's turn to blush this time, and Regina only knew it was such by the strategic clearing of her throat that Emma did to hide the fact that even a million miles away Regina was able to make the hardened soldier's stomach flutter. Finally, the coughing ceased and Emma spoke. "I miss you too."

"Are you–?" Regina cleared her throat attempting to get the words out. Back in her adolescence she once wore her heart on her sleeve, but now she had a hard time letting her mouth say what her heart wanted for fear of the answer. "Are you still upset with me?"

The soldier released an amused chuckle but quickly reassured the brunette. "We're okay."

"We still need to talk."

"Just talk?"

Regina rolled her eyes hearing the implication behind Emma's words. If the blonde was right there in front of her, no doubt she would pull out the waggling eyebrows and the knowing smirk. Regina grinned nonetheless at the mental image and rolled a coy shoulder. "I'm sure there are much more amusing things we could do," she purred before sobering immediately. "But, yes. We do need to talk."

"Okay," Emma agreed readily. "But after that. . ."

Regina laughed out loud, and though she knew she shouldn't continue to play the none-too-innocent vixen, the memory of Emma pressed against her had happened far too long ago and their cat-and-mouse teasing was just too delicious after months of separation. "I'm all yours," she agreed almost breathlessly, and it took half a minute for either woman to register the words and implications Regina just presented.

"Me too," Emma said firmly and with every bit of sincerity she could muster. "Hey, can you do me a favour?" She asked quietly, suddenly cautious of the volume of her voice.

"Of course."

"If anyone asks, Henry's my godson, right?"

Regina squinted and looked at her phone, wondering if she had misheard, but the static on the line was blessedly minuscule. The gears in her brain turned, and through the line Regina could detect just the barest hints of fear in Emma's otherwise jovial voice. "Of course he is," she answered easily. "Why do you think he already calls August Uncle yet you by your name?"

A breath of relief released from Emma before she chuckled. "Because he already has a blatant disrespect for me?"

"Quite the opposite, in fact." Furrowing her brow, Regina questioned more intently. "Emma, is someone bothering you?"

There was half a second of silence that was interrupted by the imminent static on the line, but the blonde spoke, cutting it off. "It's just–it's nothing I can't handle, I swear."

Regina bit her lip, not necessarily believing Emma but trusting her nonetheless. What other choice did she have really? "How much longer will you be gone?"

"Probably a few months."

She scowled audibly.

"Hey." Emma interrupted the complaint that was sure to leave red-stained lips. "I'll be back before you know it."

December 30, 2004 – Storybrooke, Maine

Regina grunted as she somehow managed to push open the door of the mansion with the weight of a very muscular August Booth leaning against her side, his arm strung around her shoulders for support. Carrying a wounded soldier while her son sobbed behind them as he brought up the rear, his skates dragging in a tangled knot behind him, was not something she had planned for when she, Henry, and August had left that morning so Henry could show Uncle August how he could go really, really, really, really fast on ice skates. Apparently not that fast unless he was losing his balance and colliding right into August's prosthetic.

Regina was impressed with herself that she had managed to bear the brunt of August's weight from the rink to her car and from her car to the mansion. Call it adrenaline or perhaps those yoga tapes she had an affinity to watching when Henry was knocked out for the night actually came in handy, but whatever it was, Regina managed to carry him into the foyer.

August growled in his attempt to suppress any and all pained sounds, but they escaped in his hissed breathing, in the flare of his nostrils, and in his talon-like grip on Regina's shoulder.

"Gently," Regina soothed as she slowly removed his arm from her shoulder to lead him to the first few steps. August didn't listen and grunted as he fell in a heap of limbs onto the ground, his growling more insistent as he somehow managed to shimmy his way onto a sitting position at the top of the step. "I said gently," Regina reprimanded before turning to scoop a still whimpering Henry into her arms, but the boy resisted as he stood in the middle of the dipped foyer, his training skates left discarded by his side, and his hands lying limply at his waist as he just continued to cry and look solemnly at Uncle August.

After a few deep breaths and physically lifting up his prosthetic leg to stretch it out, August's breathing evened out giving Henry a half-hearted smile. "You can skate really, really fast."

Shamed, Henry clung to the back of Regina's leg and wiped his wet face and runny nose against the cotton. In all his winter clothing, he looked like a crying blue marshmallow as he shook from fear. "I, I–I'm sooorry!"

August reached out a hand, and with much persuasion from both adults, Henry ran from his hiding spot and into August's arms where his crying became more pronounced, and from the sounds of his snotty sniffling, more wet. "It's not your fault, kid. My hard drive was acting up anyway when you fell into me."

Henry sniffled and pulled back hopefully. "Yeah?"

"I just gotta get rewired again and grease up my hinges." August nodded, patting him once on the back before ushering him off. "You got any more of that ice cream we're not supposed to tell your mom that we've been eating?"

Excited and oblivious to Regina's frown, Henry ran off, already happier than he had been in the last few minutes. As soon as he was out of earshot, August allowed the pained expression to fill his face once more as he hurriedly pulled up his pant leg, plastic and metal catching on the denim fabric before he examined the remaining stump of his leg to find it reddening and bruised.

"I am so sorry." Regina knelt down and examined his leg, careful not to touch anything.

"It's fine," August gruffed, massaging the limb and and exhaling between clenched teeth. "Kid's kinda boney even with all those layers."

Regina grimaced at his reddening flesh that didn't look like it was going away anytime soon. "Did . . .parts get lodged further?" She asked uncertainly.

August chuckled good-naturally, his boyish charm returning as the pain receded at a snail's pace. "Despite Henry's implications I'm not actually a cyborg." He looked up to the ceiling in thought. "At least that's what they programmed me to say in the mothership."

Regina rolled her eyes, August's comment making her forget her need to be embarrassed for her ignorance. "I still think you should go to the hospital."

"I'm fine," he insisted with a huff as he grabbed onto the wall to stand up.

"You fell on the ice and then a three-year old body slammed you. I don't think you're fine."

"To point out, he's almost four," the grunting man argued.

"If you're worried I'll tell Emma that Henry beat you up, you can rest easy at night."

August tilted his head to acknowledge her statement but promptly ignored it, choosing instead to focus his energy on getting upright.

"You were grunting yesterday as well," Regina noted as he managed to press his back against the wall and slide halfway up.

"It wasn't a grunt," he insisted, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment before placing his lip between his teeth and shooting the rest of the way up. His momentum overshot, and he ended up losing his footing and collapsing against the foyer's side table.

"God!" August yelled out as Regina rushed to his aid, grasping his forearm in her hands and moved to right him, but he shook out of her hold with a curt, "I'm fine."

Regina took a step back and raised an eyebrow at the hunched over man who had the decency to look a little sheepish.

"I'm fine," he amended more calmly then placed a hand over his stumped knee and straightened up. "It's just tight."

"Get that checked," she ordered.

"You may have Emma whipped but not me." The brunette rolled her eyes as August took tentative than surer steps toward the kitchen where the clattering of bowls sounded, but neither were blind to the way he was limping cautiously. "See? Good as new."

"You're as stubborn as your sister," Regina scoffed, finally shedding her coat and picking up the trail of garments Henry had left in his wake.

"Better looking too."

She snorted. "I think not."

"Hen, break out the bananas and chocolate sauce!" August called out as he limped to the kitchen.

"'Kay!"

Regina groaned, rubbing her forehead to stave off the impending headache. "Why did I invite you over?"

"Because I got Henry a great Christmas gift?"

"You got him a solar surfer. Now he thinks he's Jim Hawkins and will never cut his hair."

"It's a scooter with a creative mast attached to the handle. Hardly anything to worry about," he argued as they walked into the kitchen to the see the freezer door left open and Henry pouring nearly a quarter of the bottle of chocolate sauce into the entire container of ice cream.

"Oh dear god." Regina froze and just stared dumbstruck as Henry looked up from his task and smiled widely.

"Uh. . ." August scratched his head. "I'll eat that."

"And you'll clean it up," Regina growled as she backhanded his bicep.

"Ow!" He said mostly from shock but rubbed the spot nonetheless. "Geez, the Mills are violent today."

January 1, 2005 – Storybrooke, Maine

Aside from Emma's birthday/going away party, Regina couldn't remember when she had hosted a get together that didn't involve Henry's birthdays or meeting with the city council men at a working lunch to discuss upcoming changes in the town's policy, but as it was, last night Regina had found herself host to a New Year's Eve party with the same folk who had come out to celebrate Emma's birthday. It may have been due to August's presence or maybe Regina was finally applying social skills outside of the workplace, but the last minute invitations had her usual go-to people, Kathryn and Granny included, at the ready to enjoy ringing in the new year at the mayoral mansion.

There had been music and drinking and mingling right there on Regina's lower level with the TV permanently on New Year's Eve in Times Square. Though at first the idea of such an event made Regina's skin crawl with nervous goosebumps only she knew were there when August had hoped to celebrate with Ruby and suggested inviting her over, but as the night went on and one glass of wine turned into two, Regina started to see these people as more than just her town's citizens. They were an odd bunch: a Mayor, a preschool teacher, restaurant owners, a therapist and his dog, and the wounded brother of her lover, but Regina realized their company made the holiday seasons bearable. They were her friends.

Friends. Regina chuckled at the word as she sat in her living room nursing a cup of coffee while the remnants of the party still littered the area. It could be done later on that day, she argued. Another thing she would never have let slide in any other circumstance, but she felt different now. The buzz of the party still seemed to be simmering through her, but she felt happier. More alive, perhaps. Different, for sure.

Emma would be proud of her for accepting the friendships that have seemingly been in front of her the entire time. When she woke in the new year, her head stinging slightly and the other side of her bed still empty, Regina felt a longing for the blonde who was still physically vacant from her life. She withdrew Emma's letters from her bedside table and made her way down the stairs where she sat now, bringing in the new year with her girlfriend in her own special way.

She smiled fondly as she read some of Emma's older letters where the younger woman had shared her dream of driving across country, visiting every state, sleeping in her car, and collecting keychains from everywhere she went. There was a quiet irony to the blonde that Regina found endearing. Emma was a dreamer, but more importantly, she couldn't sit still no matter how badly she wanted to, and Regina knew Emma wanted to. Despite the adventures the blonde promised herself she'd have, the countries she would visit, the people she would meet, at the end of the day, all Emma really wanted was a place to come home to. Whether Emma knew or not, Emma had long been accepted into the Storybrooke community, into the Mills household, since they had started writing to each other years ago. It was insane, and too fast, and too much too soon.

And Regina missed her something fierce.

"Why are you awake so early?" A sleepy-eyed August in a big MIT hoodie Regina had no idea how he had acquired stood in the entrance of the living room, leaning heavily on a crutch. The crutch was curious until Regina followed the length of his torso downwards, trailing down his boxer shorts to see that he had removed his prosthetic leg for the night. "Gotta let it breathe," he explained and moved further into the room to prop down beside her. "Again, I ask, why are you awake?"

"Not everyone hangs over," Regina retorted taking a sip of her coffee and tucking Emma's letter further into her lap.

"Geez, you are perfect, aren't you?"

Regina smirked at the man, no doubt quoting Emma's words, as a pleased blush rose to her cheeks.

"You know, I never got to give you the protective big brother speech," August noted, leaning into the corner of the couch, wincing covertly as he moved his limb onto the cushion.

Regina raised an amused eyebrow. "If I hurt your baby sister you'll hurt me?"

"I have friends in high places," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"At ease, soldier." Regina leaned over and patted his leg reassuringly. "I have no intention of doing that."

"I know," he nodded. "That's why you two are good for each other."

She swallowed sharply, bringing her knees to her chest in a move that was uncharacteristic for the Mayor of Storybrooke, but for Regina whose emotions were once displayed clearly on her sleeve, it was a sign of anxiety yet self-comfort. "Is it terribly absurd for me to feel so deeply for her after only seeing her for a month?"

August snorted. "You don't need to physically be with someone in order to have a connection with them," he reminded her. "I'd say you two had formed something, romantic or not, the day you replied back to her."

Regina mulled over his words though it was a futile task since she knew it to be true already. Every day spent away from Emma had Regina analyzing their relationship because past experiences taught her to be cautious, use instead of be used, but all that made her do was miss the blonde soldier even more. Nuzzling her face in the space between her knees, she sighed and released her feet to the ground, composing her features but keeping that mayoral mask at bay. "I couldn't help but notice that you and Ruby were the last ones awake."

January 15, 2005 – Undisclosed Location, Iraq

Despite the snow that had finally found itself in Maine, the nights continued to remain warm in Iraq, specifically the makeshift tent Emma and her squad found themselves in for the past couple of weeks. The tent was nothing more elaborate than a few poles holding up a cloth tarp, a slit at its side for an entrance and within it, some sacks of supplies and crates and cinderblocks. Outside the tent in their makeshift courtyard guarded off by broken down mesh wire, however, was the reason Emma's team had been called to that location in the first place. Their Christmas break had only truly lasted no more than two days before they were off again at Spencer's beck and call. This time they were part-babysitters part-bodyguards as the General had singlehandedly, or so he claimed, caught two shooters taking practice shots at Spencer and his troop as they drove along the Sinjar region. They weren't talking, so that gave him all the more reason to deem them as threats, and Cabrera's men were meant to be there to stay on guard. Emma wondered if Spencer's interrogation tactics were even legal, but who was she to question someone who outranked her?

In the quiet of the night, the squad usually took shifts watching the prisoners in the courtyard, bound by zip ties at their wrists to keep them from doing any funny business. They took shifts keeping guard, a couple hours in pairs so the other three could rotate and get some sleep, then in the morning, Spencer would separate the prisoners, a thin lanky man with black curls and a scar on his right cheek, and another man, beefier with a beard nearly touching his collar. He'd scream and taunt and god knows what at them for hours, but for almost two weeks straight they never budged or said a word, only speaking with each other in the dead of the night in the softest of whispers in their native tongue. Emma thought she saw the beefier one console the lanky man one night, attempting to lift his spirits and encourage him to get through one more night. But then again they could easily be conspiring a revolt plan. Maybe they were just frightened citizens without a passport, doing what they had to do to get by and get out but found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time and definitely by the wrong person. Or maybe Spencer's gut feeling was right and they were the head of an underground operation, stealing access to military information in the hopes of exploiting their weaknesses. It made Emma sick to think that either was true, and all she could do was patrol and wait.

But tonight, Spencer's patience had worn thin. He had banished the squad to the tent, and the usually quiet night was privy to the sounds of frustrated yelling, bones breaking, and flesh tearing.

Where life was threatened outside the tent, inside, the squad gathered for an unceremonious toast. Water bottles clinked as they sat on crates and dirt, bottles raised to Neal Cassidy. It was just another day for any of the other men in the squad–most hadn't even realized it was a new year–but for Neal, it was nearly unbearable to be sent out so soon after hitting base. The upside of the military: they were very good at delivering news to their men faster than any post or courier service could.

Neal had gotten word today that his baby girl was born just three days ago.

"Congratulations." A collective cheer rang out from the squad as they toasted the man who grinned down at the picture in his palm of Tamara in the hospital bed, hair pulled into a bun and wayward wisps flying everywhere as she held up six pound ten ounce Alia Justine Cassidy. Alia's face was scrunched up, and her caramel tone was tinted red from what must surely have been tears, but she was perfect, and every time Neal looked at that picture, his smile matched his wife's, wide and proud and happy.

Emma clasped his shoulder and shook her head. "Can you believe it? You, a dad."

He moved to take a swig of his water bottle, but halfway to his lips he caught sight of the picture and grinned all over again, forgetting his thirst and just about everything else in the world. "Man, it's like it's not even real."

"It will be." Cabrera's deep voice sounded from the back of their tent. His eyes were closed and he was sitting on a cinderblock. If they hadn't just heard him speak, they were sure to bet that their Sergeant was sleeping. But then he opened his eyes, and for once deep brown eyes softened as he tugged on his collar and weaved out a silver chain with a locket strung through it. The floodlights from the courtyard were enough light to see the two kids, a boy and a girl no older than nine and six. In the other locket was an older woman, Cabrera's wife by the looks of it, holding up a baby less than a year old. As quick as he'd shown it, he replaced the locket back under his jacket and resumed his sleeping position, his eyes falling shut as he spoke. "When you hold that baby in your hands for the first time, every time, they become the only real thing you'll ever know."

"I never saw you as a family man," Kennedy commented.

"You never asked," Cabrera answered and dismissed in one breath before putting his hands behind his head to rest for the night.

"I want a huge family," Frederick chimed in. "Me and the missus and the kids running around the house with the huge yard and the dogs chasing after them."

Kennedy snorted. "That sounds gay."

Emma scoffed and cocked an eyebrow. "If his missus was a mister then yeah, but I don't think you know what that word means."

Before Kennedy could retort, Neal roused up beside Emma and smirked pointedly at Ken. "Clearly you're not getting any." He turned to Emma, ignoring Kennedy as the younger soldier flipped him the bird, and with an inquisitive quirk of his eyebrow but a knowing tilt to his lips asked, "Big family? Two point five kids, a dog, and a white picket fence?"

The blonde snorted but smiled nonetheless, falling right into Neal's trap of thinking of the two brunette Millses in Storybrooke, neatly trimmed hedges in front of a mansion, in fact, and Pongo whenever that Dalmatian showed up. "Never had much family growing up, but if I could choose, a boy you can't mess up with as much." As an afterthought, the image of a little girl with dark unruly curls in a pink tutu dress, sneakers, and skinned knees came to her mind, and she shrugged. "But girls are just as adorable and even more smarter."

The men laughed, even Cabrera smirking in his sleeping state, as they all nodded their agreement.

"You better start learning how to braid and do pigtails now," Fred commented, pointing at Neal with the tip of his bottle.

Neal snorted. "You think Tamara is gonna let me anywhere near Alia's hair?" He grinned saying his daughter's name, and the squad shook their head at his over pleased face.

"She's gonna be spoiled." Kennedy's comment earned him murmurs of agreement from Emma and Frederick, and an acknowledged grunt from Cabrera. Neal didn't even have it in him to deny the claim, though Emma knew the months leading up to his daughter's birth had him on edge. All he had were detailed descriptions of every OB appointment and ultrasounds from the past six months. Emma was just grateful Tamara hadn't given a play-by-play of the actual birth, but if she were in Neal's position, she knew she'd want every detail too. Hell, a video even. Scratch that, she'd just rather be there holding her wife's hand and coaching her through all the Lamaze classes they'd probably attended. She looked down and suppressed the grin threatening to spill from her face.

"Why aren't you out there guarding the prisoners?" Spencer's demanding tone boomed in the otherwise quiet night, and for the first time they realized the screaming had stopped as he pushed aside the cloth opening and entered their makeshift sitting area.

Cabrera was the first to stand and address the General who, despite his older age, made everyone around him feel like he could snap their neck in two with his bare hands. He probably could and no one was willing to be his first volunteer. "You told us to stay away while you questioned the prisoners, sir."

"Now I'm telling you to get your asses out there and make sure they stay there." Emma had no idea how Cabrera resisted an eye roll or snarling his lip, but the Sergeant just nodded at his squad, and one by one the four of them moved out of the tent and into the courtyard, all ignoring the way Spencer breathed down their necks like they were the prisoners.

Emma frowned when she pulled back the tarp to see the lanky and bearded men on their knees, unbound yet obedient. Their faces were bruised and their lips had split. The lanky man with the scar on his cheek had a fresh one on his opposite to match. The glare he threw at her made it seem as if she were the one to give it to him.

"Why do we gotta watch them for?" Neal muttered aloud when they all exited the tent.

"Because they are a threat to your country," Spencer boomed from behind them. He glared at Neal who had been ridiculously happy all day, but for the first time since receiving the news of his daughter, he faltered and gulped visibly as Spencer's steely gaze bore into him. "And because I said so."

The prisoners had been on their knees for hours. Whether they were obeying Spencer when he threatened that he'd shoot them if they so much as blinked, or if they were showing defiance by proving they could, Emma wasn't sure. All she knew was that for them to kneel in the dirt ground all night long right up until the break of dawn and suffer through the morning heat then they were either desperate or crazy.

"Which do you think is gonna break first?" Neal asked, emerging from the tent and offering his water bottle around.

Kennedy, who had been brushing his teeth, took the bottle, waterfalled it, and spat out the foam. He did another rinse before handing it back and eyed the two men. "My money's on the small one."

"Yeah?" Neal shielded his eyes from the sun with a hand to his forehead and noted thoughtfully. "Big guy looks like he's gonna faint."

"Wouldn't you if you had to go through what they went through?" Kennedy, for all his ignorant comments, for once looked compassionate as he shook his head, kicking at a rock on the ground. "I would rather be shot. Boom. Quick and easy."

"You think they need water?" Frederick asked.

"Wouldn't you?" Kennedy turned the question around again.

Frederick handed Emma Neal's bottle. "Go give them some."

"Why me?"

"Because you're a girl," Kennedy supplied easily.

"So?" The blonde said aghast.

"They'll probably take it if it's coming from you," Neal chipped in.

"Most of the places here are stuck in time," she reminded them. "I'm probably the last person they'd accept help from."

"Just do it."

She looked uncertain and conflicted. A large part of her, the good part, told her that kneeling in ninety degree weather would be torturous on an abled-body person. She couldn't imagine withstanding it and being beaten up to boot. But Spencer told them they weren't allowed food or water unless they talked, and they sure as hell weren't talking. Emma had learned the hard way that people screwed you over if you gave them the chance to, and something deep down told her that she shouldn't do it, she shouldn't trust them. But the larger part, the good part, she frequently reminded herself, told her to fuck it because this shit just wasn't humane.

Tucking her lip between her teeth, she grabbed the proffered bottle and marched over to the two prisoners. The cut on the lanky one's cheek had dried overnight and the blood crusted over in a small diagonal line starting from the middle of his cheek and ending nearly right by the tip of his lip. The bearded one looked at her warily, a mixture of disgust and curiosity as she crouched down an arm's length away from them and shook the bottle enticingly.

"You guys thirsty?" Emma asked. "You know?" She mimed drinking but got nothing more than a blink. She sighed and lowered her voice, crouching lower to catch their gaze. "Here's the thing, if you guys just talk to him, say you were put up to it or give up some higher up names, he'll let you go."

Only their eyes moved as they silently communicated to one another before returning their hardened gazes to Emma. Their unspoken language was just as difficult to interpret had they been speaking their native tongue, but at least with that she had picked up on certain words. Derogatory terms about the invading white men, yes, but she picked up a little Arabic. Still, they remained silent.

Emma nodded and sighed, shaking the water again. "Sure you don't want any?" When she continued to receive nothing more than a glare she stood up and looked to the three men watching her in the shade and shook her head. "They don't want–"

As soon as she took a step past them, the lanky one gripped his arms around her legs and collided his arms straight into her knees, sending her careening backwards to the ground. Dust clouded around her upon impact, and for half a second, she was stunned paralyzed. The prisoners moved when she fell, the lanky one straddling her waist while the bearded one charged for the three men. Frederick and Neal had taken him on, but the man's size proved more of a struggle than they anticipated.

"You are disgrace!" The lanky man spat in Emma's face, his thick accent laced with vile and disgust as he used her own gun, pressed against her throat lengthwise, to keep her pinned. "A woman pretending to be man!"

He moved to turn the gun onto her, but she used the brief alteration of position to push up against the gun and smash it into his face. He cried out in pain, blood seeping from his nose and his cheek wound flowing freshly, but it was just enough of a distraction to reclaim her gun and bang it again against the side of his temple, forcing him to roll off of her. Both scrambled to get to their feet as quickly as possible, and just as Emma had her rifle trained on him again, Kennedy had sprinted to her and held the lanky man's arm behind his back with one hand and tilted his head back with the other.

"You better be nice or that woman who just kicked your ass is gonna kill you," Ken threatened with a snarl.

Emma almost did it, almost easily pulled back the trigger to put an end to her attacker's life, but she growled and eased the tension in her shoulders, though never once dropping her gun from him.

The trio in the middle of the courtyard jumped when a gun went off behind them, and all turned to see Spencer by the entrance of the tent, Cabrera frowning behind him, as the General had Neal's gun in his hands and was lowering it from eye level, the barrel trained at the bearded man who ceased struggling and fell limp to the ground, blood pouring from his neck where the bullet lodged. Fred and Neal panted, blood splattering their clothes and faces and their eyes wide from the escalation of events.

No one said a word as Spencer tossed Neal his gun and marched straight to Emma, Kennedy, and the last remaining prisoner who stared forlornly at the body of his fallen friend. Gripping Kennedy by the back of his collar, Spencer yanked him away from the prisoner and to the ground before holding the lanky man by the back of his neck like an animal and glaring at Emma.

"What do you think you're doing, soldier?" He questioned accusingly.

"Nothing, sir."

"It doesn't look like nothing. You think you know better than me, huh Corporal?"

"No, sir."

"Clearly you do." With a steely-eyed gaze, Spencer tilted his chin out and ordered. "Remove your weapon."

Emma didn't move right away and glanced at Cabrera who remained stoic before turning back toward Spencer. "Sir?"

"I said," Spencer said taking another step closer, clutching the prisoner to him as he squirmed in his grasp. "Remove your weapon."

She didn't break eye contact with him as she shouldered her gun off and slid it away from her, closer to the four men who were watching with confused curiosity, obediently remaining in place.

"If you want to cause trouble in my troop then you'll get it." Spencer threw the lanky man to the ground and leaned in closer so he was nose to nose with the blonde. "We'll see what you're really made of."

Spencer turned and pulled the prisoner to his feet and held his face roughly toward Emma. "You want her? Go get her."

Emma stared dumbfounded as the lanky man turned after Spencer. "I am not animal," his accented voice growled out.

"Could have fooled me." Turning his back to them, Spencer left Emma and the man in the middle of the courtyard where they stared down one another uncertainly.

Did he really expect her to fight this man like a pitbull in a dog fight? No, her inner conscience spoke loudly. He expected her to kill this man with her bare hands it seemed. She gulped and tried to take a step away, but the lanky man moved along with her, sensing that only one of them was coming out of this alive, and with his baser instincts kicking him, he sure as hell wanted it to be him. Emma tightened the strap of her helmet and glanced at the men watching, most agitated except for one.

"Sir, is this really–" Ken began but was instantly silenced by Spencer's threatening glare.

This was really going to happen.

Tracking the man with her eyes, Emma crouched in a defensive pose as they circled one another. They stalked and gauged the other, Emma refusing to be the one to make the first move. She wasn't an attacker; she was here to fight for peace. She studied her opponent, because seeing him as the man they had captured, enslaved, and damn well tortured was far too much reality to bear when the next move was to come directly from her hand. His dark curls were ashy with sand and dust, his modern yet outdated clothing was patchy and a size too big to properly fit his thin frame. Holes were ripped at his knees where he had suffered hours on the hardened ground not once complaining. And for what? Because they found him with a gun in his hand, shooting unfamiliars.

They weren't so different after all.

With a yell the man suddenly lunged forward, but his momentum was hindered by the days of his captivity for he lost his footing and power making it easy for Emma to duck under his charge, weave her arms under his and bring him to the ground. She straddled him immediately, raising one of his arms above his head and used her other arm to come down on his larynx. His legs kicked and struggled as he choked against her weight. She didn't account for his free arm as it swung wildly, his closed fist clocking her about the temple. She yelled out at the pain and released his neck to pin both arms down, but he managed to wiggle his lower half free and kick her off with a swift foot to her gut.

They rolled away from each other, and Emma was faintly aware of the voices trying to reason with Spencer, but as far as she was concerned, she was alone in this match. She crouched again, gauging the man's movements. His dark eyes were almost obsidian as they followed every twitch of her body. His hands were down and out, vibrating from the adrenaline pushing him forward.

This time it was Emma's turn to initiate as she lunged forward, catching him around the middle and twisting her body to latch onto him from behind. For once she was grateful for that half-nelson a foster brother had forced her into because it made her learn how to do it properly, and as the man struggled under her, she felt him start to go limp beneath her as she sunk to a knee to bring him to the ground. A sudden pain ripped through her knee as the man used the last of his energy to bring a leg back and kick out her only standing leg. Emma released him falling face first to the ground as he coughed and crawled away.

Through the pain, Emma heard Cabrera's voice, having had enough of the spectacle their superior put on for them. "General, I have to insist that you cease this, and we will deal with the prisoner and Swan's insubordination accordingly."

"Sergeant, it is my duty to make sure our country is represented by the best active soldiers we can produce," Spencer said with an unmatched intensity. "Consider this training for Corporal Swan."

Emma reared up on all fours and coughed out the dirt she had swallowed when another kick came to her ribcage as the lanky man stood above her, kicking as if she were a soccer ball. She cried out and clutched her side, the tears coming unbidden to her eyes as she struggled to roll away.

"General!" Cabrera shouted this time.

"Stand down, Sergeant! That is an order."

Emma bit her lip and growled as the lanky man became confident that she was down and out. He laughed and jumped around her, spitting in the places she was trying to crawl to, cursing her and her squad in Arabic, but the taunting and Spencer's ever-present smirk gave her the strength she needed to suddenly roll onto her back and kick out the man's knees. There was a scramble as he landed on top of her as they both rolled around trying to get the upper hand.

Perhaps it was training or the sheer determination to just end this and get home alive, but Emma straddled him once more, gripping the sides of his face and bashing his head into the hardened ground once, twice. She eased up on him enough to flip him onto his front and used zip ties from her belt to keep him captive, moving quickly to do the same to his feet.

She panted. Her bun was nearly completely pulled out, her cheek was bruised, and her knuckles were red and cut. With every ounce of respect she could muster, Emma stared straight at Spencer and marched up to him until they were chest to chest. "Prisoner is apprehended, sir. For the good of our country, it would be wise to send him to more equipped facilities since the interrogation here has led us nowhere." She returned the steely eyes glared and stood at attention. "Sir."

Spencer's lip twitched in a snarl before he turned back to Cabrera and the three wide-eyed men. "What are you waiting for, Sergeant? Move him out."

February 23, 2005 – Boston, Massachusetts

"We there yet?"

"Not yet."

"How lo-oong?"

"Just a few more minutes, Henry."

"I'm ti-red."

"You can always nap."

"Mo-oommy," the boy continued to whine, stretching out in his car seat enough to kick the back of Regina's chair.

She caught his gaze in the rear view as she pulled off the interstate and into the city. The silent reprimanded had the three-year old pouting and straightening up in his seat, muttering his annoyances to Rexy Jr.

The four-hour drive was taking its toll on both Henry and Regina. The winds were fierce and the roads slushed over, and with driving conditions subpar, the amount of vehicles on the road limited Henry's game of What Colour is that Car? to the only few automobiles brave enough to brace the streets. For any other occasion, Regina wouldn't bother making such a trip, taking the rest of the week off, and pulling Henry out of daycare.

But August was in the hospital, and Regina had to be there for him.

She was sure the soldier would fight her tooth and nail upon seeing her, but Regina had a way of heeding people's wishes while getting her own way, and frankly, August was in the hospital. How much fuss could he really put up? Her need to scold the man for not listening to her sooner evaporated when August had called two days prior saying that those pains in his leg ended up being a lot more than nothing, going so far as to admitting they had been happening for a couple months now. By the time of his phone call, he was already prepped for surgery and was about to have his limb opened and looked. He had mentioned medical jargon Regina was sure even he didn't know, but despite his insistence that he was fine and to stay put, apologizing again for missing their weekly Sunday phone call, Regina had postponed her meetings and told Henry they were going on a road trip to see Uncle August.

Fifteen minutes later, Regina was holding Henry by the hand as they entered the hospital, the boy oohing at the grandiose design of the high ceilings and even the presence of a pizzeria. It was certainly a different world from Storybrooke's own general hospital, and Henry was soaking it in completely. Though the size of Storybrooke could be quite stifling at times, Regina was at least grateful that should she enter into their hospital any nurse could direct her to whomever she wished to see. Here, the Mayor was simply another visitor who needed to be directed by signs and maps to get into the proper section of the hospital where August said he'd be. After a few trials and errors, twice even stumbling into the maternity ward and passing by a gorgeous garden patio encased by tall glass windows where interns sat and ate lunch and slept, or at least they would if it weren't for the snowfall covering the benches and tables. Regina and Henry found the limb reconstruction floor and was thankful that the nurse sitting at the reception desk was able to help her locate Sergeant August Booth's room as Henry jumped from tile to tile without touching the cracks.

Regina held out her hand for Henry to take as the pair traversed through yet another hallway that looked as similar as the last until they reached August's room. The lower volume of a television could be heard from inside the door and a low, deep chuckle that was clearly that of August's laughter. Knocking on the door thrice, a muttered call to enter sounded, and Regina entered the private room.

August lay in the bed wearing a white hospital gown with blue diamonds. A tube ran up his nose and around his neck helping him breathe. His eyes were half-closed due to tiredness or the medication, Regina wasn't sure, but as soon as he got a good look as to who entered his room, he gave a lopsided grin and rolled a shoulder. "About time."

Regina raised an eyebrow. "Were you expecting us?"

The man simply smirked and his head lolled to the side leaving Regina to deduce that he was most definitely high. She shook her head and took a step toward the bed to place her purse at the counter opposite August, but when she moved, she felt a tugging on her right pant leg. Henry clung to her, clutching Rexy to his face and hiding behind her thigh.

Worried, Regina crouched to his level where he scurried into her embrace. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Un-ca August sick?" He whispered in his toddler way as he cast a watery side glance to the man in question, his sudden amazement at the big hospital gone seeing his Uncle August strapped to so many machines.

Regina frowned but nodded. "A little bit, but he's getting all better now. Why don't you give him a big hug?"

He nodded and scampered to the hospital bed, climbing up the metal frame to plop haphazardly on his leg before crawling up his torso and hugging him around the chest. "You feel better, Un-ca August?"

"Hey little guy," August beamed as if just recognizing the boy's presence despite his knowing grin upon their entrance. "I know a super cool magic trick," he announced suddenly.

"What?" Henry asked eagerly, clutching Rexy to his chest in excitement. "Show me. I want to see."

"You have to say the magic word."

"Please?"

"Not that magic word," August admonished.

"Bibbity boppity boo!"

August considered it for a moment before shrugging, then suddenly the bed inclined upward and rose two inches. Henry gasped, staring around at the magical moving bed before clambering into August's lap. "How you do that?"

"Magic," he whispered dramatically into the toddler's ear.

Henry reared up on his knees using Rexy as his magic wand. "Bada boom."

August laughed at his choice of spell before covertly pushing the button that activated his bed, making it jostle up and down a moment then recline all the way back.

Regina shook her head as she sat beside the boys – because once those two were together no amount of military training could make August act his age – as they continued to play with the automated bed.

"It's like Aladdin's carpet, Mommy!" Henry nearly shouted in his excitement.

"It's a bed!" August added just as excited.

"Talking to you would be a useless task right now, wouldn't it, August?" Regina noted taking in his drip bag, the IV strapped to his arm.

"Talking to me is swell," he retorted back before showing Henry the secret to his magic trick.

"Debatable," Regina sassed before gaining his attention with a hand on his arm. "The surgery was successful?"

"I'm still alive and kicking," he answered before glancing up to the ceiling in thought then shrugged. "Half-kicking. They keep taking my leg."

Without warning he exposed his stump leg, shorter now that it ended mid-thigh. Fresh incisions and stitches laced through it and a bandage was placed right at the tip. Regina had seen him without his prosthetic before, but having her friend in the hospital for complications with it made her stomach churn. She squeezed his arm again, but before she could voice any concerns, August beat her to it by rapping his knuckles against her chin the same way he did to Emma in that annoyingly big brother fashion despite Regina being older than the Sergeant. "You came."

The comment took Regina by surprise. "Of course I did."

He smiled at her and ruffled her hair, earning him a glare he didn't catch as he and Henry continued to push buttons on his bed to see what they could do.

An hour later when a nurse brought in August's lunch, the sight of jello, soup, and pudding made Henry's little stomach rumble, so Regina dismissed herself, leaving the boys in the room to watch the cartoons Henry had conned August into watching as they snacked on the pudding and jello first. She remembered the food court upon entering, but greasy pizza just wasn't an option for her growing boy. There were a few sandwich and coffee shops she had passed when struggling to find August's ward, but she wondered if getting lost for half an hour would be worth the trip. Passing by a nurse, Regina stopped and held out a finger in a preemptive attempt to draw the nurse's attention, but the sound of her ringing purse drew her away. She frowned as she dug through her purse, finding her cell phone that was strictly for business calls and emergencies regarding Henry, but seeing as they were in Boston, she could only assume her staff back in Storybrooke were already falling apart on her.

Flipping open the Motorola, Regina pressed the phone to her ear and quickly left the patient care to find herself in the more common areas of the hospital. "Regina Mills speaking."

"Hey."

Regina stopped, making the pregnant lady waddling behind her glare as she desperate tried to let gravity take its toll on her stubborn child. Regina threw an apologetic glance and let her by before shaking her head in disbelief. "Emma?"

"Why do you always sound so surprised whenever I call?" Emma asked with a feigned hurt tone to her voice.

Regina chuckled and continued her walk as she drifted aimlessly through the hallways. "It's a good surprise, I promise. I never know when to expect you."

"We're good at that, though the last time I surprised you, you booted my car."

"It was a public service," the brunette insisted.

Emma snorted before sighing contently. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," Regina replied in that same melancholy way. "How are you?"

"I'm great actually."

"Really?" She turned down a hallway only to find herself about to enter intensive care and quickly moved back in the direction she came.

"Yeah. I'm feeling pretty good."

"No cuts or bruises?"

"I make no promises."

Regina rolled her eyes before turning down a different hallway, this time finding herself in a hallway lined with waiting rooms. "I'm glad to hear you're okay."

"What about you?"

"No cuts and bruises on my end," Regina sassed. "Though Henry slept in my room last night and gave me a kick to the ribs."

"I'll kiss it better," the blonde promised unknowingly earning a pleased grin to olive cheeks.

Regina slowed her walking and laughed softly. "I'll hold you to that." Squinting, she voiced her sudden realization. "How did you know to call my mobile?"

"I tried the house then the office," Emma answered easily. "Your secretary said you were out."

"Yes, Henry and I are visiting August."

"I heard," the blonde said solemnly. "You'll take care of him?"

"Of course. Though I'm sure the medication he's on is doing a grand job of that."

"Yeah, that sounds like August. What are you doing?" Emma asked hearing the constant shuffling as Regina navigated the hallways.

"Getting lost in this maze they call a hospital," Regina huffed. "I'm trying to find Henry some lunch."

"Turn right."

Regina automatically looked to see that there was, in fact, a hallway in which she could turn right into and narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What?"

"I'm trying to help you get out of the labyrinth," the blonde reasoned. "Is left a better option?"

"There is no left."

"Right it is."

Rolling her eyes Regina played along and headed down the corridor finding more familiar spaces. "How long do you have? I can quickly fetch Henry if you'd like to speak with him."

"Don't worry, he's having fun with August."

Regina narrowed her eyes again. "And how do you know that?"

"Because if he was with you, you'd be more frantic and he would have already grabbed the phone from you. Another right."

Regina turned, and from her viewpoint she could see tall glass windows that signalled that the garden patio was near which meant the sandwich shop wouldn't be too far off either. "Your deductive reasoning skills are flawless."

"Again, you sound surprised. Head down this hallway and there's food and decent coffee in that store."

Regina stopped completely in front of the glass windows, her breath slowing as she shook her head in disbelief, her heart pounding in her ears. "Emma. . ."

"Turn around."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Disclaimer in Chapter One

AN: I don't know where the sudden need for cliffies came from, but you gotta admit, that's a good place to leave off ;)

"Turn around."

Regina shook her head forcefully, as if the disbelief she was feeling was actively trying to stifle the hope in her gut. "Don't play games with me right now." It was stern, but the desperation in her tone couldn't be overlooked.

"Turn around," Emma insisted.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Regina turned slowly on her heel, her heart beating loudly in her ears as she faced behind her. She held her breath.

The hallway was empty save for a vacant gurney lining the wall and a nurse passing through with her nose in a patient's folder. No red leather jacket or unruly blonde curls. No severe bun or camo uniform. No Emma.

Regina exhaled and shut her eyes, mentally kicking herself in the head for letting her hopes get too high, but her embarrassment was pushed aside for white hot anger. "I can't believe you did that," Regina hissed into her phone, yet the blonde had the audacity to chuckle. "That was the cruelest things you could have done, and honestly, what did you have to gain for that?" When the chuckle turned into full fledged laughter, Regina held a hand on her hip and all but shouted into the mobile. "So that was funny to you?"

"Regina–"

"Don't Regina me, Emma Swan." the brunette snapped. "What if I had Henry with me? Do you have any idea how devastated he would be?"

A few taps on her shoulder had her turning sharply, eyes blazing and tongue ready to lash out at whomever so dared to interrupt her. She gasped. Her phone fell to the floor with a loud clang. The battery popped out, and the pristine Motorola now held a few scratches, but Regina didn't care.

Deep brown leather with a fur-lined hood, blonde curls trapped in a ridiculous looking beanie, and the greenest eyes she had ever seen glittered mischievously at her.

"Emma," Regina gasped again.

Emma grinned so smug and so proud as she pocketed her Nokia then motioned to Regina's dropped cell phone. "I'd hate to be the person on the end of that line–"

Her quip was cut off when the brunette lunged forward, her arms weaving around Emma's neck so instinctively it was as if the last nine months hadn't been a torturous separation for either women. Regina's face was buried in Emma's neck, the Irish Spring soap and wild flower shampoo intoxicated her senses in the best of ways, but more importantly, Regina could feel Emma as the blonde hugged back just as fiercely, arms wrapped tightly around Regina's waist, bunching up the material of her blouse and breathing her in, as they nestled into one another.

It was long minutes before either pulled away, both comfortable to just stand there silhouetted against the tall glass panes as soft snow fell over the garden patio. They both pulled their heads back, eyes glassy and bashful and excited and happy as they grinned at one another before Emma leaned closer, pressing her forehead against the brunette's. "Hi."

Regina laughed, tightening her hold around Emma's neck before conceding. "Hey."

They laughed again, though what was the punch line was beyond them. They were happy and thrilled and content, so they laughed, pulling closer into one another so surely and so tightly as if proving to Father Time that the months apart couldn't hinder them.

"So am I still in trouble?" Emma asked with a grin.

"So much," she answered sincerely with a beaming smile on her face then smacked the blonde's shoulder. "Idiot." She pulled Emma in by the back of the neck and pressing their lips together in a firm kiss that was all pressure and all passion.

It had been too long since she had felt pink lips moving steadily over her own. Her dreams and imagination had been the next best thing on those nights when Regina was a little too lonely and a little more worked up than usual, but having Emma here, one hand pressing firmly between Regina's shoulder blades with the other slinking down the curve of her spine, fingers brushing against the cool skin exposed at Regina's waist before resting just shy of indecent on the Mayor's rump, the very real sensation of Corporal Emma Swan blew all her fantasies out of the water.

When Emma's lips parted invitingly, Regina was so desperate for more contact that she almost fell into the trap quite happily, but with a pained groan realizing where they were, she placed a tender kiss on the corner of Emma's lips, then again on her cheek, and another on her parted lips before pulling back, pleased at the half-lidden euphoria of contentment Emma found herself in. "That was a nice welcome home greeting," the blonde said when her eyes fluttered open and she had the sense to take a step back because being in such close proximity was way too enticing for either of them.

"It was certainly more entertaining than your little prank." Regina released her arms from around Emma's neck to give the blonde a half-hearted disapproving look, but Emma just rolled a shoulder, still grinning and still proud.

"You have to admit," Emma said as she stepped past Regina to pick up the forgotten cell phone and the battery. "I got you there."

Regina rolled her eyes, accepting the phone and the last minute kiss Emma placed just under her ear that made her shiver excitedly and step closer into Emma's warmth. The blonde pulled back and together they headed down the hallway, out of the labyrinth and into the common area where the hospital gift shop, rest rooms, and a few eateries were located.

"Not that I'm complaining," Regina began with a hand clasped around Emma's forearm as they entered the moderately busy sandwich shop. "But what are you doing here?"

"I got a message saying that my foster brother was going in for surgery, and if I wanted to I could come home for five days to be with him," Emma explained, moving her hand to squeeze Regina's waist. "I got on the next plane to Boston."

"You're here for a week?" Try as she may, the Mayor couldn't keep the schoolgirl excitement out of her voice.

The blonde frowned apologetically. "Including today, three days. August on morphine promised you'd be here ASAP, so I should just sit back and enjoy the show."

Regina cocked an eyebrow and repeated. "Sit back and enjoy the show?"

"Like I said, he and his pain meds are agreeable and the man likes his soaps." Emma ushered Regina to the front of the queue with a hand on her lower back. "He said he'd pull his own plug if I so much as picked up a phone."

"Pull his own–he's not even in a vegetative state yet if he were, it would be impossible for him to accomplish such a feat."

"August and morphine," Emma repeated simply.

"Next time you're here unexpectedly, let me deal with August," Regina demanded, leaving no room for argument before facing the barista.

Emma smirked. "Yes ma'am."

Carrying their provisions for lunch, a grilled cheese for Henry and two club sandwiches and coffee for Emma and Regina, the women walked back to August's room, their bodies pressed together at the hip they may as well had been Siamese twins. Before stepping into the room, Regina grinned and held Emma back with an arm. "Wait here."

Cocking an eyebrow, Emma nodded, and Regina couldn't help but lean up and capture her lips one more time. They were owed to her really, and Regina was banking on cashing in as often as she could. Leaving a grinning Emma, Regina pushed into the room, Henry's sandwich and her coffee in hand which she settled on the opposite counter, placing her purse down as well. The constant whirring of the bed notified the brunette that Henry had continued to play with the magic bed, and August who was enthralled with an episode of Justice League didn't mind the jerking back and forth motion and let it be.

"I have a surprise, sweetie," she called as soon as her burdens were settled on the counter.

Henry pushed the bed all the way down until August was staring upright at the ceiling, a grimace on his face at his interrupted show. "Pizza?"

"No," she grinned.

August sat up suddenly that Regina almost moved to catch him, but he wrapped his arm around Henry and moved the bed upright. "I know," he said abruptly.

"Candy?" Henry quickly turned to look up at August, hoping for the affirmative.

August didn't answer and just wrapped one giant hand over Henry's eyes and face before grinning at Regina. "About damn time!" He cheered excitedly.

"August," Regina scolded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Sorry." He cupped one of Henry's ears uselessly as if that alone could block out the curse he had already heard. "Don't say that, okay bud?"

Henry nodded obediently, reaching up to remove August's hand from his eyes, but the man held firm. "What is it?"

Regina smiled and walked quietly to the door, opening it to allow in an amused Emma who surely heard the conversation happening within. Pressing a finger to her lips, Regina led Emma in with a tug of her hand, and from there, the younger woman took over, depositing the sandwich and drinks she had on the counter before pressing her face nearly nose to nose with Henry's. The knowing anticipation in the room heightened as August removed his hand from the boy's face.

Immediately sensing a presence, Henry reared his head back before his eyes widened comically, his eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs as his mouth formed a perfect 'o'. His hands flew to his mouth as he gasped in surprise. "Emma!"

Without so much as a warning, Henry leaped off the bed and wrapped his arms around Emma's neck, weaving his legs around her waist in a vice-like grip as he continued to cheer excitedly, and very loudly, in the blonde's ear.

His weight was familiar is Emma's arm, but god did his hair always tickle her chin? He was the same Henry she had left nine months ago, but he had grown since then. He was sturdier, and god he was so tall, and why the hell couldn't she see his eyes? Laughing happily, she rested him into her side and used a hand to push up Henry's bangs until twin pools of golden brown stared up at her. "That's better. I was beginning to worry you were going blind."

"See?" Regina gave Henry a look as she came to sit on the edge beside the hugging pair. "You need a haircut."

Pulling back to remove Emma's hand from his hair, Henry shook his head profusely then ran a hand upward until it stuck up and out of his face. Satisfied, he stood and hopped happily on the bed with his arms raised in victory, the adults bouncing with every jump. "Emma's home! Emma's home! Emma's home!"

Emma grinned, catching Regina's eye as they both watched Henry chant and cheer. "Yeah," she said almost to herself. "I am."

Their lunch hour was filled with constant chatter as Henry moved between sitting with August as they marathoned cartoons and crawling into either Emma or Regina's lap as the women curled into the large single recliner in the room. It was surreal, this moment, as Henry insisted that Emma watch his super cool magic trick, making the bed rise and fall with sheer will. Five years ago, Regina never thought that she would be here, right now, with a son she thought she would never have, with a girlfriend she should have never met, and a quirky friend she could never get rid of. It was disorganized and unsystematic and sometimes so difficult, but they were hers and hers alone, and it was perfect.

She was happy.

As Emma oohed at Henry's impressive parlour trick, nodding in amazement when the boy let her in on the source of his wizardry, Regina smiled, shifting so that her legs tangled with Emma's as she rested her head onto sturdy shoulders. The blonde turned at the shift and returned Regina's expression, adding a light kiss to the top of her head. Their fingers found one another, lacing through the spaces until they connected instinctively, their hands squeezing in reassurance to remind the other that they were there. Together. Finally.

Regina surprisingly managed to remain cuddled up with Emma for at least three episodes of Justice League before Henry crawled off the bed and pulled Emma to her feet, proclaiming she be the one to escort him to the bathroom. He was a big boy and could do everything himself while at home, but seeing that he needed help to scoot onto the toilet and reach the sink, Emma was the lucky winner to accompany the kid.

As soon as the door shut, Regina leaned closer to August who was more lucid than he was upon her arrival since it showed in the way he winced whenever Henry leaned too heavily on his injured side.

"About time?" Regina repeated his earlier words with a raised eyebrow.

"Too long, I think," he smiled boyishly.

Regina smiled softly, her hand coming over his arm in sincerity. "Even drugged out of your mind, how are you able to play the puppet master?"

"The same way Tolkien wrote The Hobbit while on opium."

"So we're just some characters in your story?" Regina clarified bemused.

He nudged her chin. "You're better than that."

She rolled her eyes affectionately before leaning up and kissing August's temple. The man smirked but hollered a cat-call nonetheless. "Don't let your girlfriend see."

This time when Regina rolled her eyes, it was out of annoyance more than anything, but the smirk never left the man's face, and Regina wouldn't have it any other way.

The elevator dinged as it arrived on the fifth floor, its doors opening to reveal a knocked out Henry lying limply in Emma's arms and Regina rolling a small briefcase out of the elevator and into the hallway where the diamond design of the carpeted flooring made the length of the hallway look slanted than it actually was. The smell of different dishes fused in the air as grease, fish, and curry combined to create a smell so strong Regina could almost taste it and made her wrinkle her nose.

The blonde chuckled, catching the movement, and nodded her head down to the left where August's apartment was located. "You get used to it."

Regina murmured a noise of acknowledgement as they made their way to the very end of the hallway and stopped dead upon what was sitting outside August's door. "That's a cat."

"Yeah," Emma nodded, shifting Henry to one side so she could retrieve the keys August had leant her. "He's real."

The small cat that was predominantly black save for one white boot at its front right paw and a white circle around it's left eye sat on its haunches, its ears pointed up, and stared expectantly at the new humans then at the door then back again.

"Meet Figaro," Emma introduced as she turned the key into the lock and opened the door wide. As soon as the smallest sliver opened, Figaro raced into the apartment and perched possessively on the living room chair which had a blanket draped over it. Even from her distance at the door, Regina could see the cat hair that littered the blanket and deduced that this cat certainly was a regular among the Booth household. "He's pretty good, if not a bit of a fatty," Emma explained. "Don't let his size fool you. That thing will devour your cereal the second you leave to get the milk."

"Cats shouldn't eat cereal."

Emma turned suddenly, an absolutely serious expression on her face despite the sleeping boy in her arm. "I know." She disappeared into the single bedroom briefly and returned empty handed before motioning to a spot on the rug in the middle of the living area. In the pale shades of brown fabric, a harsh orange stain stood out like a beacon. "He did that."

The brunette wrinkled her nose again. "Why is it orange?"

"I have no idea," the younger woman said gravely. "I tried everything. I can't get it out."

"Sit it in baking soda."

Emma smirked. "After making me wait two days to call you, I'll consider it payback."

Regina chuckled and commended with a nod. "I like the way you think, soldier."

Regina rolled her suitcase to what she assumed was the closet door and removed her peacoat, opening it to find her suspicions correct. A small smile graced her lips when she found Emma's uniform, newly laundered and worse for wear. Her fingers trailed over the rank stitched onto the bicep then over the jacket completely. The elbows, despite the thicker padding there, was worn and torn in places, and there were some stains over the body which Regina didn't even want to know what the cause was.

An arm weaved around her waist, and soon her back was pressed hotly against Emma's firm body as the blonde sighed contently, her warm breath tickling Regina's neck and ear enough to make her giggle. "I've really missed you."

Quickly hanging up her coat, Regina placed a hand over Emma's wrapped arms, allowed her head to fall back onto Emma's shoulder where the blonde began grazing her lips and nose against Regina's smooth neck. She used her free arm to find the back of Emma's head, fingers tangling in loose locks as she pulled the blonde closer. "I missed you too."

In the quiet of the room with cars honking below them, the wind bristling slightly through the partially opened window, and muffled conversations happening one floor above them, the ladies began to instinctively sway together, hips moving against hips, and their breaths mingling in the minute space between them. The white noise was their symphony, and their hearts orchestrated each movement.

They had danced away from the closet, swaying to and fro into the living room, their bodies never once separating. When Emma stepped, Regina followed, and when Regina squeezed her hand in yellow curls, Emma held her waist tighter, her fingers of her free hand tickling the small sliver of exposed skin at Regina's hip.

Regina sighed contently, letting her head fall back completely onto Emma's shoulder, and to Emma, that was all the invitation she needed to press soft lips against the juncture of Regina's neck, feeling her pulse jump in heated anticipation against her skin. Up and down, Emma's lips traced Regina's neck, following the contours of the veins there, kissing a path from her shoulder right under her ear. As soon as the whisper of her breathing tickled Regina's ear, the brunette giggled again, attempting to move away and push closer all at the same time. When she pressed a kiss right on Regina's ear, the quiet giggling turned into a humming before a breathy little moan escaped painted lips, and Emma darted her tongue out, tracing the shell of her lobe to make the pleased sound continue longer.

"I've missed this too," Emma whispered, placing one parting kiss on the shell of her ear before peppering the length of Regina's arm draped around her head.

"We never did this," Regina sighed breathily.

Reaching just shy of Regina's wrist, Emma pulled back enough to disentangle Regina's fingers from her hair, and in one fluid motion, had the brunette facing her. Emma latched onto the hand she had removed, weaving their fingers together before guiding Regina's free arm over her shoulder lazily and taking hold of the older woman's waist, not once faltering in their swaying movements.

"We should make a habit of this," Emma said as they both stepped in closer, the foreheads connecting like magnets.

"Of what?"

"Dancing."

"There's no music."

"That hasn't been a problem for the last twenty minutes."

Regina pulled back and looked around the room as if evidence of Emma's statement could be found in the changes of the atmosphere. The cars below were still honking, the wind had quieted down some, and the neighbours above were laughing. The only thing to back up her claim was the fact that the cat had moved from its spot on the chair to the open window, and the time on the VCR proclaimed it to be nearing 9:30. Having Emma's warmth and her scent and her arms wrapped around Regina again made time stand still, so with a gentle smile, the brunette nodded once, placing a chaste kiss on pink lips before resting their temples together.

"We should," Regina agreed.

It wasn't until Figaro started pawing at a container full of cat kibble did the two women ease apart.

"Duty calls," Emma informed her as she moved across the room to pick up a food bowl from the floor and filled a scoop of kibble in it.

"All that training put to good use," Regina quipped, removing her heeled boots and placing them by the front of the door before excusing herself with her suitcase to change in the bedroom out of her pantsuit for the evening. Ten minutes later, Regina exited the bedroom in a baggy US ARMY shirt and silk pyjama pants, carrying Henry's winter jacket she found draped on the bed and replacing it in the closet.

"Nice shirt," the blonde grinned from her spot on the couch where two glasses were poured and waiting on the coffee table, and a very content Figaro curled in the space between her legs.

"Well I didn't expect to see you here, did I?" Regina asked in a flushed haughtiness as she took a seat as close to Emma as possible.

When the couch dipped, jarring Figaro from his nap, the cat looked up and very nearly glared at the brunette woman before standing and repositioning himself again, this time his butt to Regina and his head draped over Emma's thigh. Regina raised an eyebrow at the quite purposeful behaviour of the feline, but Emma just laughed with the back of her hand to her mouth in barely restrained amusement.

"Nine months apart and you've already replaced me," Regina said in feigned offence as she sat forward on the middle cushion, purposely keeping to herself as she leaned forward to take a sip of wine. "With a cat, I might add."

"I could say the same for you." Emma scooped Figaro in an arm and gently put the cat on the floor where it glared at the blonde woman before finding his spot again at his designated sitting area. "What's this I hear about a New Year's Eve bash and half the town partying at your place?"

"It wasn't half the town," Regina defended, leaning back and pulling Emma's leg into her lap. "Besides, it was August's idea."

"Funny how that guy always gets what he wants."

Regina grinned, tucking in closer so that she was pressed against Emma in the corner of the couch. Pale hands rested along the back where they occupied themselves by playing with the strands of silky brown locks.

"Your hair is longer," Emma commented.

Instinctively Regina reached up to pull at the ends of her hair and agreed with a nod. "I suppose Henry and I are both due for a trip to the barber."

"I like it."

Regina blushed.

Tilting her head to give the blonde better access, Regina's eyes fluttered shut at the soft massaging motion deft fingers were doing to her scalp. Small circles at the crown of her head there and nails raking lightly here. The hypnotic movement was so entrancing Regina didn't even realize she was pressed lengthwise on Emma's body until a content breath fluttered across her cheek and a loud heartbeat drummed in her ear.

Regina sat up, forcing Emma to pause in her massaging as she stared down at the younger woman whose lines on her face showed just how much wear and tear she had been through over the course of her life, but the laugh lines around her eyes and lips proved that she had persevered through it all. "I'm sorry," Regina whispered, her hand sneaking up to play with the collar of Emma's shirt. "For snapping at you on the phone."

Emma rolled a noncommittal shoulder. "Don't worry."

"I do." Regina tried to sit up but found she couldn't since Emma had wrapped an arm around her waist and weaved her leg around Regina's. Resigned, she pressed firmly against Emma again and explained. "I do worry about you, and I trust that you'll make sound judgments. The thought of anything happening to you, of losing you, it's . . .absolutely terrifying."

"Nothing is going to happen, Regina."

Clutching the shirt in her fist tightly in some subconscious way to keep Emma close and to make her understand, Regina furrowed her brow as she searched for the right words. "I know. I know you'll always come home, but I have to be realistic that there are risks. Your life is in danger every day, and I don't even think that's all of it." Biting her lip, Regina continued. "What's happening over there that you have to pretend that Henry is your godson?"

Emma frowned, darting her eyes away briefly until the penetrating gaze of imploring brown ones had her returning back to Regina again.

"Is someone bothering you?" Regina asked quietly, hesitantly, fearing the answer she already knew. When Emma didn't answer, Regina demanded in all her mayoral glory. "Who?"

"Nothing absolutely awful has happened," the blonde reasoned though her voice was small and her eyes just couldn't maintain steady eye contact. She had always been good at suppressing her emotions, but there was something about Regina, the way she felt pressed against her, the way brown eyes lightened considerably and widened in vulnerability, the way Emma simply didn't want to lie to her, that made her lose her focus and show a hint of insecurity.

"Emma."

By way of answer, the blonde tilted her head up and caught red lips in a surprise kiss that nearly knocked the brunette off balance. When she pulled back, a hand was cupping Regina's cheek, her thumb stroking a path there that Regina hadn't felt in months. "My General. He suspects about us. Me at least."

Regina's eyes snapped open. "What?"

"I don't know if he's told anyone else, but sometimes it feels like everyone is staring. Even some guys in my squad."

"Won't they discharge you?"

"They haven't yet."

"Can't you say something to someone else? Report him to someone with more authority?"

"He's technically not doing anything he can't make the other guys do," Emma reasoned.

"Like what?"

"Nothing." At Regina's insistent glare, Emma sighed. "Really. He's acting based on speculation."

"Which is rooted in fact," Regina pointed out sharply.

"He just works me harder. That's all."

Regina stared down at the blonde, reevaluating the laugh lines and taking inventory of the minuscule scars that graced her face. A faded cut above her eyebrow. The healing bruise along her jaw. Regina tensed and looked away for a moment, biting her lip in contemplation. "Maybe I shouldn't write as much."

"No." Emma's grip tightened around Regina's waist and her thumb stopped stroking altogether. The fear in her eyes said more than just that she'd miss reading Regina's letters. "Please don't do that."

"I don't want you to get hurt more than you have to."

"You're worth it."

And just like that Regina melted into Emma, into her body, into her words. She pressed their foreheads together, noses nearly touching. Emma tilted up thinking she was going to receive a kiss, but Regina sighed against her and admitted quietly. "You hold too much."

"Too much what?"

"Everything," Regina said nearly exasperated. She shook her head and tried to sit up again, more successful this time when she pulled Emma up with her by the collar.

Though it looked like Regina wanted to say more, the word nestled in Emma's brain and though it was vague and unclear, she knew with the utmost understanding what the brunette meant. She searched brown eyes that darted for comprehension of her own thoughts, and she saw what she felt within herself.

She could love her.

It was a terrifying word. Love. It was huge and small and the biggest conundrum known to man, but there that was. Loving someone was a huge responsibility. Holding a heart in your hand, it would be so easy to stumble and fall. Emma promised herself she'd never give hers away lightly. She promised to always take care of hers and if someone was brave enough to lend their heart to Emma, she'd protect it because if they were willing then they'd have to be something special, and Regina was more than that. But really, how long had her heart been in Regina's possession? Too long, she thought. Yet not long enough. And there again was this paradox of love that Emma wanted to be swept up in this confusion that was almost so crystal clear and everything and nothing but everything.

That was love.

Between herself and Regina. Of this little family they had unknowingly created. Because what Emma felt was more than just gratitude and deeper than simple care and affection. She could love her. She did love her. But to admit that out loud was a whole other complication, yet it just made the swelling in her heart grow all the more. What neither of them could put into words, or in Emma's case, say out loud, Emma expressed in the only way she knew how. She smiled and cupped Regina's cheeks, easing the brunette from the flurry of her mind with a look that calmed and soothed both women. "Hey."

When the conflict behind Regina's eyes settled, she leaned into Emma's touch. "Hi."

"Is that a good thing?" Emma clarified cautiously. "Holding everything?"

"It's unusual," Regina admitted. "But it's more than good."

"Good because I didn't want to be the only one who thought this was important," she said motioning between them with a nod of her head.

Regina smiled prettily, shaking her head so their noses rubbed and then kissed the blonde lightly just because she could. "You'll be careful, though? When you go back?"

"Aren't I always?" Emma quipped earning a reproachful look from Regina. The blonde grinned and leaned them back against the corner of the couch. "Hell of a second date, huh?"

"I believe you promised me a wedding."

"Dancing. Wine. A cat," she pointed out. "This is even better."

"If these are your standards, I'm anxious to see what the third date brings." Regina rolled her eyes when Emma winked suggestively in response, but before she could play the innocent vixen, Emma joined their lips together. Date number two was getting better already.

"You gotta hold my hand, buddy," Emma said as she and Henry entered a toy store at a local strip plaza the following day. Henry did as he was told, but that didn't stop the three-year old from pulling Emma along with him as he ran into the nearest aisle and looked up wondrously at all the toys. Building blocks, dolls, Legos, kitchen and handyman sets. A toy store was every child's dream and Henry was loving every second of it. He clutched Rexy to him in excitement and tried hard not to grin, which only made the adorable pleased look on his face even cuter.

It was a definite change from the pout he sported earlier when the family went to visit August that day. August and Henry had literally fought over the remote control. Henry very desperately wanted to watch cartoons while August held it out of his reach claiming that Luis and Sheridan were about to fall in love and for Emma to control her son.

Both women raised their eyebrow at that but neither said a word before Regina deduced that perhaps she should take Henry out. August insisted that Emma go with her, muttering something along the lines of "as long as you clean the bedsheets" before the man was happily left alone with his jello and his soaps.

Emma couldn't help but think this was his plan all along, and she was sure it was. It was August, after all. The writer in him loved a bit of drama. Shaking her head, she allowed Henry to pull her down aisle after aisle where Henry pushed buttons, sampling the toys so that nearly the entire store was filled with a cacophony of nursery rhyme songs and animal sounds.

"Pick one out," Emma encouraged, giving the boy a pat on the shoulder.

He looked up at her wide-eyed. "Really?"

She nodded. "It's a late Christmas present."

As soon as 'present' was out of her mouth, Henry galloped away. Smiling fondly after him, Emma followed the sounds of his heavy boots to find him in the playset aisle. She winced. Maybe this wasn't the greatest of ideas after all, she thought, imagining Regina lugging a playset in her Benz and setting it up at the mansion. But then Henry grinned pretending to be a baker in the model kitchen, and he hammered away on the handyman set, and even though she'd probably face Regina's wrath and receive a lecture on spoiling the kid, it was kind of worth it.

"Look." Henry pointed out a chalkboard ease that had the beginnings of the alphabet printed on top. "It's like a school."

She crouched by him as he found the demo piece of chalk tied to the board and began doodling away. "Hey," she realized in wonderment. "You're starting school this year."

"Yup!" Henry didn't turn away from the chalk board as he nodded happily. "I'm gonna go to big boy school and take the school bus."

"Oh my god," she whispered, just staring at Henry who was oblivious to the pride swelling up within the blonde. She knew he was getting big, but it hit her suddenly just how big he was getting. That little baby who used to eat her letters and create rainbow tornadoes in crayon that got her through the day was going to school in the fall. Who knew what'd he be doing the next time she saw him. Probably riding a two-wheeler and taking the bus by himself and getting a paper route and being a big boy. She sat down on the tile hard.

Henry laughed when she plopped. "You silly."

She pulled her into her lap and blew raspberries on his cheek, the boy squealing with joy in his attempt to get away but encouraging Emma when she stopped for too long. "Stop growing up," she said absolutely seriously when his laughter quieted.

"Okay." His promise was meaningful and to him, he meant it, but time was a hated friend who listened to no one, and Henry would grow up no matter how much Emma, or Regina for that matter, wished it.

She released him where he darted off to the next aisle leaving Emma sitting on the tile, staring forlornly at the toddler who was going to grow up into a child without her.

Emma tapped on the window of the jewelry store she found Regina in. Though there was snow on the ground, the sun was out and the winds were low, so she saw no reason to actually enter the store, especially when she could watch Regina browse without interruption. It was strange how Regina blended in with the crowd whereas in Storybrooke, whenever the Mayor entered the room, everyone and their mother knew. But here, they were just Regina and Emma and Henry, and no one knew their name or where they came from or where they were going. The bliss that came from the anonymity spurred on the hope that they could be whoever they wanted to be and damn the consequences. They were a little family taking the day to shop, and if Emma's plan went through with precision, perhaps Regina would allow her to shop for something specific.

The brunette looked up at the tapping and grinned when Emma waved from the opposite side of the glass. Within a moment, Regina was out of the store and raising an eyebrow at the giant plastic bag in Emma's hand. "What did you do?"

"It's a present!" Henry filled in, racing to his mother and tugging her to the bag. He forced Emma to drop it to the ground and pushed down the plastic to show the t-ball kit Emma had purchased for him.

"Then I guess we have to wrap it before you can have it," Emma teased.

Henry frowned at her. "No."

Regina rolled her eyes affectionately before leaning into Emma's side as they walked to the Benz, Henry swinging haphazardly off Regina's arm. "You're spoiling him."

"Hey, I see him once a year. If I'm lucky," she pointed out. "I'm allowed to spoil him. And you if I feel like it."

"I take it you haven't felt like it then?" Regina teased with a feigned pout.

The blonde smirked and winked mischievously, before turning to face the older woman, walking backwards in the parking lot. "Can I ask you something?"

Regina nodded curiously.

"Feel free to say no. I know it's special and you only get to do it once," she rambled on, bumping into a car behind her.

"What is it?"

Emma stopped walking and whether she was impersonating a puppy dog or had her own personal look, Regina was falling for it. "Can we go first day of school shopping?"

That night, Regina came home to August's apartment from the hospital alone since entertaining Henry at the ward was a near impossible task. She had also been betrayed when Henry insisted he wanted to hang out with Emma after their back-to-school shopping excursion. She couldn't find it in her to be upset that her son wanted alone time with the blonde, but the scenarios of what they could be getting up to ran rampant in her mind.

It was a good day. Perfect, really. They didn't do anything grand other than shop and have lunch, but the simplicity of it all made Regina yearn for more. For what? That's what she was trying to wrap her head around because if she voiced what she knew, she was terrified it was only going to be taken from her. But these family moments–they were too good for words.

When Emma had asked to go school shopping, Regina was surprised at first. She didn't think the blonde would be interested in academic pursuit, but it was more than just buying pencils and crayons. Henry was growing up quickly, Regina knew that from firsthand experience, and Emma wanted to be involved in all the ways she could. The hesitance in Emma's eyes when she had asked had tried to make itself small, but Regina faltered only from surprise before agreeing readily. The beam on Emma's face brought about the key realization that Regina was still trying to process.

They were a family.

Emma had been in Henry's life just as much as she had, even if she was a phantom presence for the first three years. Maybe it was because Regina never planned on ever meeting then Private Swan or maybe some twist of fate urged Regina on, but the brunette had always made it a point to include the soldier in both hers and Henry's life. Now it was for a more monumental purpose.

So after departing the plaza, they had traveled to a department store where they bought kindergarten supplies seven months early. It was a toss up who was more excited for the spree: Regina, Emma, or Henry.

Regina adored buying new button ups and denims for her son, but once she passed the newborn section, her eyes watered at the fact that Henry had once fit into that onesie or Henry used to suck on that teether. Emma never had the chance as a child to truly go back-to-school shopping. Instead, she was stuck with hand-me-down clothes, bags that were tattered at the seams, and supplies pilfered off floors and unsuspecting desks. Though she tried to argue that Henry needed a geometry set, eventually Regina was able to dissuade her of the purchase. Emma, however, was lucky enough to be the one to buy Henry's backpack. Regina nearly snorted when Henry chose his bag, but Emma grinned and blushed, ruffling the kid's hair as he pointed to a green and brown camouflage knapsack. And Henry, well, he was just happy to be the centre of attention.

They had spent a solid two hours shopping for school essentials then stopping for a quick lunch. It was Regina who returned to the hospital after dropping off Henry and Emma at the apartment to give them some bonding time and to check in on her friend.

As she approached the door to August's apartment, unsurprised to find Figaro waiting patiently outside it, she paused listening in on the sounds inside the home. Muffled laughter sounded through the wood and something that sounded akin to blowing raspberries. Regina opened the door, Figaro darting inside, but as stealthy as the cat, Regina eased her way inside unnoticed.

Then flatulence sounded.

Regina furrowed her brow and prepared her nose for Henry's inevitable stink–more than once she had had to endure a sneaky silent one, but giggles followed immediately along with Jim Hawkins and Captain Amelia's familiar voice.

She turned to see Treasure Planet playing on the television, and Henry and Emma sitting on the couch with their mouths pressed to their arms as they blew raspberries.

"You're farting!" Henry pointed, barely containing his laughter.

"At least I'm not smelly." Emma took his arm and blew a big wet raspberry, Henry's joyous laughter filling the air.

He paused when Figaro leaped onto the couch and weaved his way in between Emma and Henry for attention. The blonde shot her head up toward the door to find an amused Regina by the entrance way, but Henry was too preoccupied by the kitty cat. "Hi Fig'ro!"

"Hello, honey, I'm home," Regina said coyly, removing her scarf and coat and hanging them in the closet before toeing off her boots there as well.

"And you brought a cat."

"Please, felines are more manageable than dogs."

"Not as fun." Figaro turned suddenly on Emma as if he knew she was talking about him, and to win back her good graces, he slipped out of Henry's hug and curled up in the blonde's chest, purring contently. "This one's okay though," she relented, stroking the cat behind its ear. "How's August?"

"The doctors say he can be refitted for a new prosthetic by next week, and since he's responded so well to the last physio exercises and medications, they imagine it'll be easier to adjust to new knee movements." Regina stepped into the living area and leaned against the back of the couch where Henry jumped into her arms. "Hello, sweetie." She kissed him, rouging his cheek. "Did you have fun today?"

"Look." Henry pulled back and stood on the couch, bringing his arm up to his lips and blew loudly. "I can speak flat'lence."

Emma tried to hold in her laugh, but the boy continued to blow raspberries on his arm like the character in Treasure Planet. She shrugged when Regina threw her a pointed glare.

"Speaking two languages can get him a better job," she argued.

Emma smirked and tapped her cheek, and the brunette didn't hesitate to lean over and peck Emma on the lips. It was supposed to be a quick welcome home kiss, but at initial contact neither Regina nor Emma wanted to pull away for too long, so when Emma clutched Regina's bicep and pulled her in closer, Regina fell into her lips.

"Ew!" Henry yelled and covered his eyes, ducking his head into the back couch cushions before peaking an eye to see the women pulling apart with red tinted cheeks.

"Ew?" Emma repeated, using her outstretched legs to pull Henry to her. "You don't like my kisses?" She attacked his face and neck with a flurry of pecks that the boy loved despite his protests.

Smiling fondly, Regina retreated to the bedroom where she changed out of her slacks and button up and donned more comfortable wear. Exiting the bedroom in her silk pyjama bottoms and a cotton tank top, she moved around the couch and took a seat at the opposite end, not entirely upset that Henry would be blowing raspberries for days now. Quite honestly, given the amount of times he had watched this movie, she was surprised he hadn't picked up the habit yet. But he was happy, leaning against the back of the couch speaking flatulence while she and Emma watched on amused. Then suddenly a foot tapped her knee, and Regina glanced up to see Emma playing a game of footsy with her, but the smile that came effortlessly to her face was worth the juvenile attempt at gaining her attention. They went on like that, legs tangled with one another and sly glances shared over Henry's head, until Jim and John had their bonding moment through the music montage, and Regina had no qualms about tugging Emma's outstretched arm and suggesting she lay with her. Emma's head on Regina's chest, the brunette lay content and absentmindedly stroked her fingers through yellow locks, but upon seeing his mother and Emma in an embrace, Henry fell on Emma's back in a loose hug as the Mills created a Swan sandwich.

The hour came and went with Henry shushing the women whenever they tried to quote the movie, and when the credits rolled, it was Emma who sat up on her arms, jostling Henry who woahed exaggeratedly and held on, as Emma said it was time for someone's bath. Cheering, Henry rolled off the soldier and raced toward the washroom, already tugging his shirt off and tossing it on a disgruntled Figaro before slamming the door shut.

"Since when does he like bath time?" Emma asked, still propped up over Regina on her palms.

"20,000 Leagues Under the Sea," she answered by way of explanation. "You can thank Tina for that one."

"I'll send her a thank you card for eliminating the hassle of bath time."

"Good luck getting him out." Regina sat up, tapping Emma's shoulder to move back and sauntered to the kitchen where Figaro followed, waiting expectantly by the kibble.

The sound of the washroom door opening and closing signalled that the younger woman had bypassed the warning and ventured into a guaranteed soaking. The muffled sounds of the faucet running accompanied the instrumental music of the credits still rolling on TV. Feeding the cat and giving him an affectionate pat on the head, Regina switched off the television from her spot in the kitchen and opened the fridge to see a single long stemmed rose and her name written in Emma's signature script on a card taped to it. Curious, she pulled off the card and began to read.

Regina,

I know I've missed so many holidays and your birthday since I've been away, and I know this rose doesn't make up for it, but know that I do always think about you, not only on those holidays of your birthday, but everyday. Consider this a promise that for as long as you'll have me, I'm always gonna want to spend every Christmas, and New Years, and birthdays, and Hanukkah, and Arbour Day, and every day with you.

Yours,

Emma

She inhaled sharply as she finished reading the card. The cold air from the fridge caught up with her when she felt her skin prickle with goosebumps – or was that excitement? – as she stood rooted to the spot in front of the open fridge. The fluttering in her chest hadn't ceased since she saw the rose with her name on it, and though Regina never gave much thought to grand romantic gestures, coming from Emma, she just might make an exception.

Rolling her eyes at her own giddy attitude, Regina retrieved the rose, sniffing it so that its fragrance filled her nostrils before returning it to the fridge so it wouldn't wilt and thought about the woman currently catering to her son in the other room as she continued to rummage through the cupboards.

Emma, despite her reservations and guarded nature, was a giver. The soldier may not have even realized it about herself, but there was something innate within the younger woman that made her want to impress people. Regina ruled it out to be the source of her upbringing – an orphan moving from house to house wanting just one person to keep her.

And that's exactly what Regina was planning to do.

Emma was constantly doting on Henry and Regina, but Regina was determined to make tonight about Emma. She resumed her original task of making a light snack for them both, pleasantly surprised to find August's cupboard stacked with various spices and ingredients hailing from different countries. Glass noodles, galangal, curry paste, fish sauce, rose water, baharat, and a whole shelf full of chocolate YanYans. Spices she had never even heard of. She examined the labels curiously, and her intrigue spiked. She never took August to be much experienced in the culinary arts, but after hearing his stories of how he travelled in his off-time, was stationed in Korea, Germany, Syria, it didn't surprise Regina that this curious man would bring back with him food from the world.

Foregoing the snack, Regina tested her own culinary skills, sniffing and tasting spices, rifling through cupboards to find pots and pans, and was blessed when she found vegetables in the chiller. By the time she heard the inevitable argument in the washroom with Henry's "I can't go! The squid captured me!" followed by Emma's wry "I'm pretty sure you're just helping the squid by splashing me." Regina had brown rice cooked, a beef bouillon base sauce simmering, and vegetables seared in the frying pan. Intending to open up the bottle of wine from yesterday, Regina was certain date number three would go off without a hitch.

Just as she was pouring the sauce over the rice, the washroom door opened and a soaking wet Emma stepped out with a towel-wrapped Henry in her arms.

"I thought it was Henry's bath time," Regina quipped turning back to garnish the rice with veggies.

"Henry thought otherwise." With that, the wet pair disappeared into the bedroom where Henry's giggles resonated throughout the apartment.

As she plated the food on two bowls and began to rinse the used dishes, Regina could hear hurried footsteps on the other side of the closed door. No doubt Henry was giving Emma a run for her money, evading changing into his pyjamas and hopping from bed to floor to bed again faster than any jack rabbit. Usually he was a sweet tempered, good-natured child, but when excitement, or worse, sugar caught up with him, Regina considered chasing after him to be her exercise for the day. Just as she was setting the clean dishes on a rack, a heavy weight collided into the back of her legs, and Figaro, who had been weaving himself in and around her ankles, screeched in surprise before darting back to his couch of safety.

Regina glanced down to see Henry, pyjama-clad and hair sticking up every which way with Rexy tucked under his arm. He lifted his hands in a gesture to be picked up, and wiping her hands, Regina crouched down and lifted him under his arms. "Did you give Emma a hard time?" She asked in a near whisper.

He grinned with an innocent mischievous smile before Regina smirked and high-fived him. She carried him into the bedroom and stopped at the threshold where Emma, with her back turned to the Mills, was pulling off her soaked t-shirt, presenting a defined bare back and the beginnings of a pink bra. Henry ducked his head into his mother's neck instinctively with a loud "ew!" causing the blonde to turn her head and smirk at his childish response.

Regina usually would have noticed the raised amused eyebrow coming from the younger woman who had successfully stripped off her shirt, but her eyes were drawn to the faded bruises lining pale sides that disappeared to Emma's front just under her ribs. The hazards of Emma's job had always been some far off myth that only truly showed itself in calloused hands and intense nightmares, but seeing evidence on her body made Regina hurt and angry and sad.

"See something you like?" Emma teased, unaware of the thoughts running through Regina's mind.

"You're naked!" Henry giggled into his mother's neck, sufficient enough to make her pull her eyes up to Emma's face and see that she had donned a fresh shirt and a pair of running shorts at that.

"Yes I do," Regina said sincerely in a way that threw the blonde off enough for her to look down and hide her smile. She stepped further into the room and placed Henry on the bed where he crawled to the head and shimmied under the blankets right in the middle. "And you have to sleep, mister."

"But I get a bedtime story," he reminded her then looked to Emma. "You tell me one please?"

"A bedtime story," she repeated, coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. She smiled and nodded knowingly before holding her hand out for Regina to take and encouraged the older woman to sit with her as they both looked upon Henry tucked in for the night. "Once upon a time, there was a White Knight and an Evil Queen. . ."

Like their phone calls, Henry jumped in to fill in gaps of the story, but sometimes his excitement got the best of him, and for a few solid minutes, Sir Henry was jumping and galloping around the room fighting off Rexy the dragon, but he eventually tired himself out, and by the end of the story, as the White Knight broke the Evil Queen's curse with True Love's kiss, Henry fell sound asleep.

"I saw your present," Regina said as they exited the bedroom hand in hand once Henry was sound asleep.

Emma frowned. "No you didn't."

"Well it wasn't a very good hiding spot." Regina led her to the fridge and pulled out the rose and card, playing with the stem between her fingers and smiling shyly before leaning up and pecking Emma on the cheek in a chaste kiss. "Thank you."

Emma grinned, weaving an arm around Regina's waist to hold her close. "I was gonna get you those earrings you were looking at in that store today."

"I'm glad you didn't," Regina said sincerely, bringing her arms and rose up Emma's shoulders and around her neck to dangle lazily there. "I'm just happy you're here," she said honestly.

"My presence is your present?" Emma sassed earning a groan and an eyeroll from the brunette who peeled herself away.

"I made–" Dinner died on Regina's lip, or rather it was currently residing in Figaro's belly as the plates were bare save for the few stray vegetables lying on the plates. The feline had no shame as he licked his paws clean on the table, gave the plates one final sniff, and sauntered to the edge where he leaped from the table and washed down his helpings from his water bowl.

"I told you," Emma guffawed. "He's a fatty."

Regina scowled, her jaw tensing as she crossed her arms and leered at the cat. "This is why I don't have animals in my house."

Emma snorted and steered Regina away from glaring holes on Figaro back to the couch. "You love animals."

"Not that one."

"Just like how you don't like Pongo?"

"Pongo has never eaten food off any of my dishes."

"Right," the blonde dismissed quickly but knowingly, lounging in the corner of the couch and tucking an unsuspecting Regina into her.

The brunette toppled gracelessly onto the soldier and huffed out of surprise more than annoyance before suddenly lifting herself over Emma, hovering on her arms with an expression of concern on her face. "Did that hurt you?"

She wrinkled her brow. "No?"

"It's just that I saw your back."

"You must have liked it a lot," she laughed, trying to get Regina to rest against her, but the brunette wouldn't budge.

"You have bruises," the older woman stated simply.

Emma's laugh quieted as she frowned in understanding, but it was the green eyes that darkened in memory that had Regina all the more worried. "Yeah," Emma said finally, though her voice was quiet.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Nails digging into Regina's waist and a lip tugged furiously between her teeth, Emma frowned before nodding so minutely Regina wasn't even sure she was answering her question. But Emma did. She talked about Spencer and those two prisoners–one dead and the other, well she wondered if his fate was worse. She talked about how she found herself doing the grunt work or the most dangerous jobs even if there were better qualified people around. Sometimes she got leers. Most times she heard whispers. She wasn't sure which was worse.

By the end of her story, Emma's vision had clouded over, and it took a warm hand to her cheek, thumb caressing the familiar groove there for her eyes to flutter shut in relief from her own mind. Regina studied her. She would think the blonde's face would scrunch up in memory, but it was the exact opposite. Her face was plain and stoic recounting the events, as if she were distancing herself from it, as if she was summarizing a book she had read and not giving much indication it was her own life. So Regina kept her thumb steady until the rising and falling chest beneath her levelled out in a slow rhythm.

Growing up in Storybrooke, Regina never really considered herself blessed. Small towns had their problems after all what with the rumour mill and the lack of adventure, but what made the town a close knit community kept it unusually progressive as well. Sure, residents would gossip about one another about who fell into bed with whom, but once the excitement was over and done with, the town would find their next scandal, so to speak. Being in a relationship with Emma held no backlash or scorn by the majority. In fact, the soldier's mere presence was enough to excite the folk, and throwing in the Mayor and her son to create a happy family just added fodder to the chatter, but the general consensus was a well-earned I told you so, particularly from one Ruby Lucas.

But hearing of the real world, where outside their bubble, outside this haven of happiness where they found peace, contentment, and love for one another, was hatred and disgust, it made Regina sick to her stomach. Maybe she was too absorbed in the paradise she, Henry, and Emma had created to notice anything on their day out today, but Emma clearly felt it in the army, and it frustrated Regina that she was the one paying the price.

So Regina kissed her softly, a silent thank you for letting her in and a firm promise that she'd make Emma forget – forget all the wrong in the world and lose herself in this bubble of happiness she so rarely got to live in. She kissed her for every hand that wrongfully laid claim to her, for every word spat at her in hate, but more importantly, Regina kissed Emma because she wanted to, because she could, because what she felt for Emma was bursting out the seams and needed to release in the form of pale lips moving along with her own.

Regina hadn't realized she had been laying fully on top of the soldier until they paused for a breath of air, but Emma's arms were travelling up and down Regina's spine, their chests flushed hotly together, and Regina's thumb still stroking that path along Emma's cheek. "Can't you stay?" She asked in quiet desperation.

Green eyes disappeared from sight briefly when Emma shut them in pained distress. "I want to."

And Regina knew she did. Never before had she trusted someone's word so entirely that even though it wasn't the answer she wanted to hear, she knew without a doubt that if Emma could, she'd stay. She'd stay in Boston or Storybrooke, hell, even Tallahassee, just to be with Regina and Henry.

"Sometimes I think about leaving tomorrow, and I just–" Emma shook her head and held Regina tighter. "Can we just pretend? Pretend that it's any other night?"

Nodding sharply, Regina did just that, indulging in a heated and passionate kiss. Emma wasn't leaving to go back to the Middle East tomorrow. August wasn't in the hospital preparing to go through rehab all over again. She wasn't the Mayor where every move was watched and talked about by the town folk. They were Regina and Emma, with Henry asleep in his room, as they hid away from the world in this tiny apartment they all shared together. It was simply an average Thursday night where Regina would have work at the office in the morning, and Emma would be dropping Henry off at the little old lady three doors down before hurrying for that police training she was usually late for because that little old lady would always make her stay for at least one cup of coffee, and Emma couldn't say no, not when Henry was sitting in her living room playing with the two other neighbourhood children the lady watched.

They kissed feverishly, every kiss more desperate than the last. Neither knew when they would get to be together again like this, so they poured everything they had into each other with every touch, every upward twitch of their lips, and every flick of their tongue.

Regina exhaled hotly into Emma's mouth when she felt the barest fingertips disappear under her tank top, whisper soft touches trailed along the curve of her spine, and she shuddered against Emma as the blonde grinned at her reaction.

"Beautiful," Emma whispered just before claiming red lips once more, and though Regina had heard it a million times, coming from Emma, she felt it inside and out. "So beautiful."

Tongue darting out to meet Emma's, Regina reared up on her knees straddling the blonde and pulling her up with her as she pressed herself even closer to the younger woman. Then suddenly Emma's mouth left hers and was firmly sucking at the base of Regina's neck, and the unrestrained moan couldn't be helped as the heat between their bodies only moved to simmer in Regina's core.

"God, I've missed you," Regina sighed for the nth time in so many days as Emma nipped a path along her neck. She weaved her fingers in lightly damp hair and held her close.

Emma murmured in agreement against Regina's increasingly heating body and moved her lips past tanned shoulders to dip into the curve of her collarbone. Despite Emma's hands being in perfectly respectable areas, Regina's breath hitched every time they wandered too close to her backside and the anticipation from Emma's hot breath tickling her sensitive breasts made her body hum in want.

Then Emma used her nose to shimmy the fabric of Regina's tank down and kissed the top of her breasts. Respectability be damned, Emma held Regina with one hand at the base of her spine while the other retreated to a far more pleasurable location as she kneaded the soft lace-encased breast there, earning herself a breathy moan.

For a few blissful moments, Regina basked in the unashamed attention given to her. With Emma's steady hand and heated kisses – she gasped when the blonde tugged the lace down and wrapped her mouth around an all too eager nipple – Regina's senses were on overload and only increasing in intensity.

She had never felt so cherished before, so wanted, but that's how Emma always was around her. This desire to please her as if one wrong move would make her send the soldier out the door. Not this time. Not ever if she had a say in it.

Fighting through the haze, Regina gripped Emma's head in both her hands and pulled her up for a hard kiss that both calmed their feverish desire and sent them into a spiral. She had intended to distract the blonde so that she could take the reins and cater to the younger woman, but as her tongue explored the roof of Emma's mouth and flicked at her tongue, Regina just got dizzy all over again. It was when Emma moved both hands to the hem of her tank top, attempting to slide it upward, did Regina remember her mission, and with a force Emma hadn't expected, pushed the soldier down by the shoulders and grinned wickedly.

"Stay," she commanded intensely and slid lower, her silk pants tickling Emma's bare legs, as she straddled pale knees and bent over, leaving a promising kiss on pink lips before hovering over the hem of Emma's shirt.

Emma's breathing became shallow as ever so slowly Regina inched the fabric of her shirt upward and pressed whisper soft kisses along the length of exposed skin. Despite Emma's grip in her hair and on her arm, Regina took her time, wanting this moment to last for as long as she could because if they had only one night together, this one chance before Emma was off again, she was going to memorize every little part of it.

The freckle just north of Emma's hipbone on her right side burned into Regina's mind as she kissed it. Her lips trailed upward, tongue dipping into the younger woman's belly button as her taut stomach quivered from her touch. A strip of flesh, raised from a burn or a cut, was parallel to Emma's rib. Further and further she pushed the t-shirt up until Emma was forced to sit up on her elbows and hastily helped the brunette tug the top over her head. Then Emma was left in her shorts and bra, the latter uncharacteristically pink that was only second to the brightest thing on Emma's body as her heated flesh took the cake.

Regina leaned back on her knees and stared. Emma's muscles were defined but the curves of her body left the brunette's mouth aching to scrape her teeth along the soft flesh. Her breasts, small but firm, heaved lightly since her breathing had quickened in the last few minutes. And the bruises she had seen earlier, faded green and purple stopping mid-torso drew Regina's attention the most. She didn't see Emma follow her sight line and the blonde suddenly tense and become self-conscious. All she knew was that she wanted to make it better, and not giving Emma the chance to cover up again, Regina bent over, catching pink lips in a quick kiss before darting directly to her bruises and peppering kisses over it.

Emma hissed in surprise as she dropped back onto her shoulders and slammed her eyes shut. Regina immediately stopped her attention and looked up at the blonde under a hooded gaze. "Am I hurting you?"

She shook her head. "No."

Regina grinned and continued laving attention to the blonde's torso, smirking when Emma let out a breathy moan as the tips of Regina's hair tickled her sternum. Then Regina moved upward, kissing the top of Emma's breasts and nipped and sucked until her own marks were left painting pale flesh. The bruises paled in comparison to the love bites Regina left in her wake, and when she pulled back to examine her work, Emma's gaze darkened, and she shot up suddenly, tugging Regina so that her core was pressed directly against Emma's taut stomach. Deposits the silk of her pyjama pants, the heat and wetness from her arousal seeped through as she ground into Emma instinctively.

Hovering over the blonde, Regina pressed their foreheads together as Emma's hands disappeared behind Regina, under her silk bottoms and past her lace thong to squeeze her ass possessively. Regina rocked against Emma, lost in the sensation as absolute desire crashed and rained over her. Emma was guiding her, her hands aiding in her thrusting motion as tiny little moans and breathy groans of 'Emma' were whispered into the night. Then Emma released one hand to bring Regina into the nape of her neck where her groans were muffled and she bit at the blonde's neck just to quiet herself. She moved with abandon as her core soared to heights she hadn't reached in so long, and Regina had no doubt she would have toppled over that edge, especially when Emma began kissing and blowing into her ear, but with much restraint, the brunette lifted her hips up despite her still canting hips and nipped at Emma's jaw when the blonde whimpered in disappointment from the loss of contact as if she were the one chasing ecstasy.

"I want to make you feel good," Regina said huskily.

"Soon." Emma tried to bring Regina down to her again, but the brunette wasn't having it.

Shaking her head, she snaked a hand between them, her fingers toying with the band of Emma's shorts before disappearing into the front of satin panties, trailing nails against the thatch of hair there before cupping the blonde's sex, her palm hitting the underside of Emma's clit at the first contact.

"Regina," Emma hissed, bucking into her hand and clutching the brunette closer.

She grinned and let her index finger tease Emma's opening, finding it wet and hot and waiting. "Please?" She asked all too innocently despite the teasing her finger was doing to the soldier.

Emma bit her lip and shut her eyes, involuntarily rocking, enough so that just the tips of Regina's finger entered her.

"Let me take care of you," the older woman enticed, pressing her thumb against a hardening clit drawing a long moan from the soldier.

Emma had enough control to bring the brunette down by the back of the neck and take her bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling and tugging it before she nodded. "Okay."

Without another thought, Regina pushed her index and middle finger upward the same time she pressed and circled the blonde's clit, and Emma groaned loud enough to startle Figaro who had been napping on his couch. Regina silenced her with a kiss that was all roving tongue and nipping teeth as she thrust into Emma rhythmically before twisting her wrist and pressing downward suddenly, making the blonde feel so full. The shock knocked Emma onto her back bringing Regina toppling over her though her pace faltered for only a brief moment before she resumed coaxing deep moans from the younger woman. Emma's legs parted open enough to give Regina more space to maneuver despite the restriction of her panties and shorts, but when the brunette could just barely graze the ribbed flesh within Emma, the blonde moaned desperately at the not-quite-enough feeling before shoving her bottoms down mid-thigh.

Now Regina had more access to Emma's body, and she used it to her advantage. Mouth latched onto a pale neck that was quickly colouring under her nips and suction, hand tugging down the cup of that pink bra so it could massage the heated breast there, thumb roving over a hardened nipple, and fingers working relentlessly inside Emma as two rubbed at her g-spot, then three, then her thumb circling an aroused clit.

"Ah, Regina," Emma said somewhere between a hiss and a cry.

Regina could feel Emma getting close as the blonde's inner muscles clenched rhythmically around her fingers. Tightening then loosening, tightening then loosening, tightening, tightening, tight.

"Regina." The groan in her ear was long and guttural and content and full of bliss, and Regina released the flesh of skin from her mouth with a pop and held Emma closer as the blonde bucked her hips in release.

Their heavy panting was the loudest sound in the room, though Regina's heart beating in her ear called for a close second as heat simmered once more in her own sex at the look of joy on Emma's face. Those laugh lines smoothed and the bags under her eyes were replaced with a thin layer of sweat. She looked happy, and all Regina wanted to do was keep her looking like that.

"You're beautiful," Regina whispered in her ear before pecking just under the lobe.

When Emma's breathing calmed enough, Regina removed her fingers, though Emma's nether lips protested the act. Her scent was intoxicating, musky and rich, yet she was sure she'd taste sweet, but before she could bring her fingers up for a sample of Emma's heady essence, the woman in question sat up, her face flushed and her eyes hooded, and she made a grab for Regina's fingers, lapping her tongue over and around the index, then the middle, then finally the ring, all the while holding the older woman's gaze.

It was intense. That was all Regina could think to describe it as she watched Emma lick herself off of Regina's fingers. It was more than just physical and more than just a desperate one last night. Before she could give it further thought, Regina crashed their lips together, stealing Emma's taste off her tongue, and dear god, she'd been right. Emma was sweet with just the hint of tang. One thing was for sure though.

Regina was addicted.

As she kissed Emma, moving along her jaw and down her neck, her fingers found the halfway discarded shorts and panties and moved to tug them down, but Emma stopped her.

"Wait."

She paused confused, but Emma sat up straighter, pulling her bottoms back in place despite the stickiness of her thighs and hovered over the brunette until Regina's shoulders hit the opposite arm of the couch.

"Your turn."

Her hips bucked in anticipation when Emma's hands rested right at the top of her thighs, so close to her heat Regina trembled, but no matter how sparking her desire was, she shook her head. "I'm not quite done with you."

Emma laughed and took Regina's palm and kissed the back of her hand in the most sincerest of kisses. "We have time," Emma promised.

Regina nodded then as if her body had assumed the control her brain had lost because somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was a lie. It was all part of the make believe both women were living in. Their time was limited, but they'd make the most of it.

So Regina nodded and pulled Emma against her in a kiss as her hips moved to make contact with that slick, toned stomach. Emma must have sensed her need for she pressed down harder to give Regina some much needed relief then repositioned her knee between the older woman's legs.

Though comfortable to wear, the loose silk pants were doing nothing to help her increasing arousal as she ground against Emma's thigh, but luckily Emma sensed as much and pulled back onto her knees, pulling Regina's pyjama bottoms off in one quick tug.

"Wow," Emma breathed out as tanned legs crossed modestly at the ankle and a thin strap of lace was the only thing keeping Regina's sex from view. "Are you even real?" She wondered in amazement.

Regina laughed huskily. "I'd like to think so. Care to find out?"

Grinning wolfishly, Emma tugged Regina up and pulled her down on top of her, positioning her thigh more accessibly under the woman as she grabbed fistfuls of ass and ground Regina's wanting sex onto a muscled thigh. The whimpered moan she drew was exactly what the blonde wanted, and Regina certainly wasn't complaining when Emma did it again.

"My dreams didn't do you justice." Emma let her right hand take the lead guiding Regina back and forth on her thigh as her left hand moved in between them, moving past the whisper of a wet thong and swirled circles around a hardened clit.

"You dreamed about me?" Regina shuddered breathlessly.

"Every night."

Despite her flaming body, overloaded senses, and raging desire, when Regina looked down at Emma, what she felt was more overwhelming than skilled fingers circling her clit. She pressed their foreheads together, noses nearly smushing as she gasped out loud when Emma entered her unexpectedly, her muscles instantly reacting, eagerly squeezing all they could out of the blonde.

They shared one breath. Every inhale became an exhale. The pounding of their hearts synchronized. Emma thrust faster, using her thigh as extra leverage to get in deeper, harder, feel Regina everywhere. Then as if reading each other's mind, they met in the middle in a firm kiss that was all lips and even more passion just as Emma found the spot inside Regina that made her gasp and moan out a hissed 'there.'

Wetness flooded Emma's hand as Regina came hard, gasping against the blonde's mouth but refusing to pull away. Her body tensed and clenched in aftershocks, and Emma removed her hand, bringing Regina down on top of her own still heated sex as they rocked against one another in such synchronized movements it was as if they had done this dance numerous times before. Together they sprinted toward a release building up all over again as they rutted against one another nearly fully clothed like some amorous teenagers not wanting to get caught in their parents' basement. Hands held each other close. Their sex kissed just as desperate as their lips, and soon Regina came again with Emma mere seconds behind. With a few shudders still running through their bodies, Regina fell limp against Emma's hold, the blonde trailing her fingers up and down the back of warm thighs as Regina nuzzled into her neck and played with damp strands of yellow hair.

The air around them was thick and hot, and their bodies were slick with sweat as they lay draped around each other for long moments. It felt like hours before Regina finally regained the strength to sit up on her forearms and grin at Emma below her. Matching her smile, Emma tilted her head up, their noses nuzzling one another as their mouths taunted and teased with the barest of touches before finally kissing leisurely.

Sighing happily against Emma, Regina closed her eyes and fell into her embrace, their lips separating only to find each other again. It was slow, and methodic, and intense, and right, and Regina could see herself doing this for hours, all day every day if she could. There was no need to rush. They had all the time in the world.

AN2: In regards to Emma being there: I know it's not a hundred percent accurate that Emma would get sent home because a foster brother is going through surgery, but soldiers do get time off when there are major incidents happening at home.

AN3: Oh look, a rating change.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Disclaimer in Chapter One

AN: Soo…somehow one chapter turned into three? My outline to fit all this into one chapter was ambitious. That being said, I will be posting the following two chapters within a few days of each other, just to do some final cleaning up. Hope you enjoy!

February 25, 2005 — Boston International Airport

They were here again as they were nine months ago saying goodbye to Emma yet again. It wasn't any easier. There wasn't a how-to on how to bid a loved one goodbye knowing full well it may be the last thing said to them. Instead of that 3AM flight earning them a private departure, Emma was scheduled for a middle of the afternoon flight with planes landing and leaving nearly hourly. A flight to Orlando had just arrived, and the airport was littered with passengers, families and children, college kids, grandparents, all hoping to escape the final frost of winter and bask in some sunlight.

But Emma wasn't off to Orlando, and they weren't taking a much needed family getaway, bringing Henry to Disney World where he could explore Treasure Island and run away from the oversized Goofy who just wanted a hug.

Emma was leaving again.

Already dressed in her uniform, her hair pulled back, and her cap on Henry's head, they waited by an ad boasting a trip to Hawaii on one side and travel insurance on the other. Some children, and even a handful of adults, stared at the United States soldier simply waiting around for her plane, and Emma had to remind herself it was the uniform they were curious about and not how she was there with her girlfriend and son. Regina was just tossing garbage away as Henry galloped within sight distance of Emma who was crouched down by the base of the ad watching him like a hawk.

When Regina returned, her heart swelled when Henry galloped straight into Emma's arms, laughing quietly with the blonde before skipping away. Henry hadn't quite realized why Emma had to wear her work clothes or what they were doing in a mall with no toy store, but as soon as he did, it would just make this endeavour more difficult. Regina almost forgot how hard this was the first time. Then, she and Emma had just newly discovered their feelings for one another, and the odds that they would remain as such were a toss-up. But here they were, stronger than ever, and after last night — Regina nearly blushed at the memory of their flushed flesh pressed hotly against one another — she knew she wanted Emma in her life no matter the cost. If it meant saying goodbye to her every year, seeing her for glimpses at a time, then she would do it. Regina wasn't sure if it was desperation, craziness, or some foolish feeling of the heart her mother always warned her about. It was most likely a combination of all three, yet Regina didn't care. She was happy.

She approached the crouched blonde, placing a hand on her shoulder to indicate her presence, but Emma already knew for she steadied herself against Regina's leg, sighing longingly.

"Are you all right?" Regina asked quietly, her fingers gently kneading Emma's neck under her palm.

Emma rolled a shoulder and rose to her feet in one fluid motion before tilting her chin up to Henry, who was spinning now with his arms outstretched before he paused, a happily nauseous grin on his face, and started all over again. "He's going to be like a teenager the next time I see him."

Regina scoffed lightly. "Hardly." She frowned when Henry, in his dizziness, nearly crashed into a couple pulling their luggage along. She apologized on his behalf and called him over.

He ran to them, wobbling in a dazed zigzag, before taking both women's hands and swinging them. "Mommy, what are we doing?"

Before either woman could answer him, the boarding sign for Baghdad International Airport appeared on the call screen accompanied by the announcer claiming, "Boarding for flight 5628 will begin momentarily."

Regina caught Emma's gaze. The green that had been twinkling with mirth for the past few days now looked despondent as the owner of them crouched to the boy still swinging obliviously from their arms. "Hey bud," Emma pre-emptively soothed. "Remember how I work to stop the bad guys?"

He nodded understandingly, the oversized cap on his head falling over his eyes in the process.

The soldier laughed and adjusted it, tucking his bangs under the lip so he could see. "I've gotta go back to work again."

He furrowed his brow and wrinkled his nose in a way so characteristically like Regina one would hardly think he was adopted. "When?"

"Right now. Soon."

He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. "No."

"Henry. . ." Regina warned. His bottom lip was already trembling, and his cheeks were painted red: sure signs of an impending tantrum.

"No," he said firmly, holding his resolve.

"I'm sorry, kid, but I've got to."

He stomped his foot loud enough to draw viewers. "You just got here!"

The words Henry had shouted were the same ones running through Regina's mind, and the tiniest part of her commended her son for holding his ground, but the distress on Emma's face was too much, so Regina, as best as she could in her skirt, bent down to calm Henry. "Sweetheart, what did we say about yelling?"

"But Momma!" This time the water works released and Henry fell limp into Emma's arms, wailing and sobbing and pounding his fists against her chest.

"Hey," Emma soothed, wrapping her arms around him tightly and lifting him off the floor in a big hug. The cap fell to the ground and her rucksack lay at her feet forgotten. She kissed his temple, using her chin to move aside his hair to kiss again on his flesh. "It's gonna be okay, Hen. I'm coming back soon."

He sniffled and refused to look up, even when Regina had stood and rubbed his back. "Two sleeps?"

The soldier frowned. "More than that."

"Five?" He whined.

She pressed her forehead against his and sighed. Huge brown eyes, watery and red-rimmed, stared back at her, and Emma was sure her own would soon match. "More than that," she admitted quietly. "But you gotta promise that you won't grow up too much, okay? I can barely wrap my arms around you, you're such a big boy."

"No more greens?" He hoped.

Regina and Emma let out a watery chuckle before his mother steeled her gaze and looked sternly. "You eat your greens, mister."

Emma was more than a little watery-eyed when she took a deep breath to steady herself, grateful to feel Regina's hand rubbing circles on her back as well.

"Hey, little guy." The trio looked up to see an older man, heading for Orlando if his khaki shorts, flower shirt, and bucket hat were anything to go by. He ducked his head so he could meet Henry's gaze and smiled. "You've got a real brave Mama there, you know that?"

Henry nodded, clinging tighter to Emma's shoulders.

The man smiled then directed it to Emma and nodded reverently. "Thank you."

The soldier nodded him off as he moved toward his terminal, and for a second, his words caught up with Emma when she turned to face Regina who continued to pat Henry's back. Maybe the man hadn't seen Regina, or maybe he didn't care, but having more of a title than just Corporal Swan made her chest tighten in the best way, though it made her duty of leaving impossible.

"Boarding for flight 5628 will now commence."

Emma crouched down again, putting Henry down on his feet and wiped his tears with both thumbs as she cupped his face. "I gotta go now."

He pouted but didn't try to get her to stay.

"Can I have a hug?" She opened her arms wide and expectantly, but all Henry did was cross his own and jut his lip out. "Oh," Emma gasped, slowly bringing her arms around herself. "Hug's closing. Better get in."

He fought to keep his angered composure, but just before Emma's arms wrapped around herself, he pulled them open and dove straight for her chest, hugging her tightly. "Love you, Emma."

This time Emma let the water building up in her eye fall over as a tear slid down her cheek. There was always a stereotype about soldiers and how they were big, muscular men who felt no pain and showed no emotion, but if serving taught Emma anything it wasn't discipline or duty. Soldiers could feel everything, probably more intensely than the average person. Making life or death decisions where a life loss could either be an innocent civilian or a friend leaves a mark like no other. Not feeling, well that just got most soldiers home alive.

And as Emma hugged Henry tightly, her tear falling onto the top of his head and disappearing into a thick thatch of hair, she though of one thing. This was living. "I love you too, Henry." She kissed his cheek and released him quickly, grabbing her cap off the floor and placing it on her head before turning to Regina who held herself around the middle, already anxiety-ridden and worried.

She reached out and squeezed the older woman's elbow affectionately. "Hey," she began softly. "I'll be back before you know it."

Regina nodded. "I know."

"Try not to miss me too much," Emma joked but the grin didn't quite reach her eyes.

Regina nodded. "Be safe."

"I always am."

They held each other's gaze as if memorizing the other's features. So many times had they done this, and so many times could they find new things to commit to memory, wanting to never forget. Then Regina stepped forward, and Emma met her halfway, arms wrapping around one another in tight hug. Regina's face was nestled against the pressed collar of Emma's jacket, and Emma took a second to breathe in Regina's perfume once more. They could have stood there longer, but both women were acutely aware of the crowd around them, judging whether they were holding on for too long. Just a second shy of questionable behaviour, Emma pulled back and kissed Regina's forehead before turning sharply, picking up her bag, and heading toward the terminal.

She got all of four steps before she turned back to Regina and Henry with one final thought in her head. Fuck it. She marched back to the family, her family, ignoring the traveling college students in her path as they ran to catch their plane or the bewildered expression on Regina's face as she advanced. As soon as she returned to them, she dropped her bag at their feet and cupped Regina's face tightly, a crooked smile plastered on pink lips. She kissed her soundly, not giving a damn about anyone around them.

She felt Regina gasp before their lips crashed, and though she was worried the brunette was going to pull back, reluctant to cause a scene and sully her good name as Mayor, Regina kissed her back just as desperately. When they pulled away, Regina's cheeks were stained pink but a smile threatened to spill on her lips. Emma pecked her one final time. "I love you."

That smile flourished on Regina's face, and Emma only realized the older woman had been hanging on tightly by the collar of Emma's uniform when Regina tugged her closer with it. "I love you too," she whispered breathlessly against her lips.

If Emma's smile could get wider, it did. "Good, because that would have been really awkward."

Regina rolled her eyes, kissing her chastely once more, then gave her shoulder a firm push. "Go. Your plane is leaving."

Emma bent to pick up her bag and ruffled Henry's hair. "Take care of each other, okay, little man?"

He nodded, coming to stand in front of his mother as Regina's arms weaved around his shoulders. Further and further, Emma walked away until she was finally behind a door designated for passengers and gone from sight, but not from mind. Subconsciously, Regina touched her lips, smiling softly to herself as her heart pounded in her ears. She'll come back, she reminded herself. She always comes back.

She tapped Henry on the shoulder and took his hand to lead him to a grand window that overlooked the runway. The last time they had seen Emma off, Henry had his face pressed against the glass watching her plane disappear in the stars. But when she turned, a woman stared gaping at her, apparently the lone witness to their outright display of affection and one still brave enough to gawk. Rolling her eyes from annoyance, Regina clutched Henry tighter to her and glared down at the thin nosed woman as she walked passed. "Shut your mouth, dear. You'll catch flies."

February 26, 2005 — Baghdad, Iraq

Emma hopped off the bed of the truck and filed in with an assortment of crew and military men who were arriving from the States. Most shared stories of what they had done with their time home: building that patio deck, attending their boy's hockey game, never leaving the bedroom. Unanimous laughter roared from the truck as they all agreed on that one. There were talks on board that there were ways to make a homebound visit last longer than five days and getting away with it scotch free. Emma was gonna have to learn that trick next time she was scheduled back home.

She grinned. She had one of those now. She had a family in it. A family who loved her. Yeah, she was definitely gonna go MIA for the next trip.

Filing into a line, she waited in the hot sun for check in. The bridge of her hat was pulled down low to provide enough shade from the light, but it did nothing to ease the heat around her. Winter in Boston felt like summer compared to this, and she remembered times where she cursed the city storms. Who knew she'd be wishing for them now?

Before she could give it much thought, a weight pushed against her shoulder and suddenly a man from the Big Boys troop, nicknamed so since they had the most chauvinistic ensemble of men Emma ever did see, slung his arm around her with a smirk. "Swan."

"Jones," she greeted happily, clasping the man's back. They had trained together at Benning, even sparring with one another and Emma pinning him as often as she turned down his advances: which was every time. Jones liked to think he could manipulate those around him by his strength, charm, and looks. His uncharacteristically English accent, a trait he picked up from his mum who fell in love with his Washington born father when she came to America for schooling, had a way with most of the female officers. Despite his small build, Jones tended to be resourceful. Last she heard of him, he had infiltrated a hostage house with nothing more than a grappling hook to help him climb up the clay walls and sneak in through a cracked and poorly boarded up window, freeing the hostages and forcing a peace between the warring parties since their leverage was gone.

"How are things going under Spencer?" He asked in a sotto voice. Everyone knew Spencer was like a bull: when his sights were set on a target he rampaged and stampeded no matter what was in his path. Emma had witnessed that firsthand.

She shrugged. "I'm still alive. You visited family?"

"Mum had a heart attack," he confessed. "But she's a fighter. She'll be up and kicking in no time. Yourself?"

"August. He had surgery."

"That's it?" He hinted intently.

They moved up in line and Emma raised a questioning eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Really?" He ducked his head and winked.

She pushed him back. "What?"

He shrugged and put his hands over his head as he navigated the main entrance where dozens of soldiers were waiting to be redirected to their squad. "I've heard things," he mentioned.

"What things?" She asked suspiciously.

"Calm down, love. I'm perfectly all right with it," he said much too quickly and too casually for Emma's liking. "I mean, the fairer sex, well, have you looked at them? What am I talking about? Of course you have."

She glanced around, and either no one in front or behind them could hear or they were clever enough to pretend.

"Though this is probably why you kept resisting me," he concluded, smirking at the blonde.

Emma rolled her eyes and replied sarcastically. "How could I possibly not fall for your striking good looks and charming smile?"

He grinned wider. "I asked myself that nearly every day, and then when I heard it all clicked, you see."

"Who's talking exactly?" Emma asked warily.

Jones shrugged and moved them up in line. "Sometimes there's not much to do except talk and stare at dirt. So it's true then?"

She faltered and for a second thought about denying it. Thought about continuing to pretend that Henry was her godson and that Regina was just a really good friend. But she couldn't. She'd be denying a part of her that actually mattered to her, and she wasn't some scared little girl anymore seeking a foster parent's approval.

"Yeah," she said confidently. "What of it?"

"I knew it," Jones whispered to himself. "I saw the picture of the blonde one back in training, but I was hoping that one of you would be single, or at least interested."

"Wait—what?" Emma held up a hand for him to stop talking. "What blonde one?"

"With the curls and the smile." He fluttered his hands around his head to indicate hair.

It took Emma a moment to realize. "Wait, Tina?"

"Aye, is that her name, is it?"

"First off, what the hell are you doing hovering over my bed long enough to stare at my pictures. Second of all, no."

"No," he repeated aghast, ignoring her first question completely.

"No. She is good, and nice, and you're—" she fluttered her hand in front of him trying to find the words. "You."

"You, my love," he said stroking a finger down her cheek long enough before she swatted it away. "Have no idea what you're missing." He lowered his voice and stepped into her space, his breath wreaking of alcohol despite it being nine in the morning. "Perhaps I could give you a sample of what the other side tastes like."

She snorted out a dry laugh and pushed past him, jostling him out of the line he cut. "Did you ever stop and think that maybe I like both, and I just don't like you."

"Impossible," he determined. "I think you just haven't had a good cock in a while—"

She elbowed him in the gut, making him double over in pain, before she entered the tent and signed in for service.

March 17, 2005 — Storybrooke, Maine

Ruby Lucas liked to think she was the matchmaker in getting Storybrooke's elusive Mayor together with Corporal Emma Swan. If it wasn't for her, Emma would never know where Mifflin Street was, but then again she had crashed into Regina regardless, but that was beside the point. Ruby basically directed them together. Literally. Who knew what attractive people Emma would have met on the way if it wasn't for her, so Ruby took pride that she had singlehandedly made Mayor Mills a happier woman. Then others started cropping up — Sidney proclaiming that he was the one who suggested to Regina to write to her in the first place, though when Leroy reminded him that now Regina had better things to preoccupy herself with than his investigations with The Mirror the smug look on his face dropped; Tina deemed she had been dropping hints to Regina from the start ever since the Mayor had brought Emma along to pick Henry up from daycare, and her joy shot up when the task was relegated to the soldier for the better part of her month-long visit. Yes, every bit of Storybrooke wanted a slice to their Mayor's suddenly giddy mood, but as Ruby sat behind the counter at the diner on her extra-long break talking on the phone with August Booth, none of the other citizens realized that August truly was the puppet master in the Mayor and the Soldier's love life. Invested as he was in his little sister and future sister-in-law's life, his own was simmering as he and Ruby spoke on the phone.

"When are are you coming back down here?" He asked.

Ruby laughed and put on her less than innocent voice. "Miss me already?"

"Or maybe I just liked having you wait on me hand and foot for a week," he shrugged nonchalant.

Ruby leaned her elbows on the counter with a coyly arched eyebrow, already missing being out of Storybrooke and hanging out in Boston for the last week, though she wouldn't give the man the benefit of the doubt. She had grown fond of him over the last several months where they kept up via phone calls and emails. When word of his surgery came about, he had already mentioned Regina and Henry were on their way, so the waitress had booked off the week the Mills were scheduled to return from Boston. August needed help and care anyway, and having two different women see to him in the past month had probably been heavenly. Ruby chuckled darkly. "You just want to see me in a French maid outfit you kept hounding me about."

"Nope," August denied unconvincingly. "It was definitely Red I missed. She and Figaro get along famously. Imagine the mutant cubs they'd make."

"Lies."

"All right, maybe I'm a little bit curious."

"Ruby!" Granny barked, coming around the counter to tend to the till. "You ain't on vacation anymore, girl, now get to work."

Rolling her eyes, Ruby turned her back to her grandmother and continued the conversation in a low husky tone. "Get through your physio and maybe I will." She bit her pen provocatively at August's low groan, but suddenly yelped at the sharp sting to her behind where she jumped and turned to see Granny with a dish rag.

"Stop with all that sex talking and get to work. And tell that young man I say hello."

"Do you want me to work or deliver your message?" She called after her Granny who did nothing more than just glare at her and disappear into the kitchen. August's laughter had her sucking her teeth and glaring into the phone. "Don't encourage her."

"I like her," he determined before his laughter quieted down.

"You can be buddy-buddy with her at Henry's birthday next month. You are still coming, right?"

"Are you kidding? It's not a party unless Uncle August is there."

"Don't say that, you sound like pedophile."

"How is my favourite nephew and Mayor doing?"

"There must be something in that Boston water because I've never seen Regina out and about and quite so happy since Emma was here last. What did they even do there?"

"Shopping," August sounded disappointed.

"Do you think they screwed in your house?" Ruby asked suddenly. "Because we slept there, and Mayor Mills is constantly sporting the I've-been-laid grin."

There was a shuffling on the line, and Ruby imagined that perhaps August was inspecting the bed he was laying on for any signs that something less than innocent than sleeping occurred. "Well if they did, I hope they changed the sheets."

"So you basically stabbed yourself in the leg so that Emma could come home and you used reverse psychology on Regina to bring her to Boston," Ruby filled in.

"It wasn't a stab," he said offended before conceding. "I saw an opportunity and capitalized on it."

Ruby shook her head in disbelief because only August could come up with a successful far-fetched plan while undergoing surgery. "She's good though. She's had coffee dates nearly everyday this week with Tina Bell and Kathryn Nolan, and she actually looks like she's enjoying herself. And, by the way, Kathryn's husband, David, has been booking weekends at the B&B saying he likes to fish and Kathryn hates the smell, but I know it's not Kathryn sneaking into his room at night."

He gasped obnoxiously. "Does he have an evil twin with a penchant for taking lovers to his cabin in the woods?"

"Shut up," Ruby scolded playfully. "You're a bigger gossip than I am. You came up with an evil genius plan to get two of the most unlikely people together."

"Or," he drawled with a smug tone in his voice, "maybe I did it to get me into the good graces of a small town diner waitress who became good friends with one of the unlikely people in question."

Ruby chuckled but looked pleased. "You're a poet."

"Novelist," he amended. "How come you're not invited to these coffee dates?"

"Regina has a thing for blondes?" Ruby guessed. "I'm pretty sure she's only nice to me because of you and Emma."

"Nah, you're part of the family."

As if on cue a loud cry sounded in the diner as the door whipped open.

"Hi Auntie Ruby!" Henry had sprinted in, the door banging and the bell ringing in his wake as his mother followed shortly behind him along with Kathryn Nolan.

"What?" Ruby straightened and looked around confused because Henry surely couldn't have been talking to her. August laughing smugly in her ear did nothing to alleviate the confusion.

Henry clambered onto the bar stool, standing up on his knees. "It's my birthday soon."

Ruby ignored his statement with a simple nod of acknowledgement. "Did you just call me auntie?"

"Mommy says you and Un-ca August are boy-friend and girl-friend," he sing-songed and giggled in happy embarrassment.

"Oh yeah?" Ruby glanced up at the Mayor who had approached to stable her son with a hand on his back. She leaned down and whispered conspiratorially to the younger Mills. "Did your Mommy tell you she and Emma are gir-lfriends?"

"And probably sleeping with each other," August added loudly in her ear.

"Who lets you near their kids?" Ruby hastily hissed at him under her breath.

"Henry's moms!" He hissed back.

Henry giggled louder and blushed, hiding half his face in his mother's waist. "They were kissing!" He announced loudly to the diner that the regulars looked up and cocked eyebrows at their usually put-together Mayor whose face was the colour of a cherry tomato.

"Told you," August proclaimed matter-of-fact.

Ruby laughed out loud with August chortling along with her. Even Kathryn had a pleased smirk on her face as she nudged the Mayor. Clearing her throat and subtly putting a hand over Henry's mouth, Regina nodded to the waitress. "That's enough of that. Ms. Lucas, Kathryn and Tina have insisted on some ridiculous female night tomorrow."

"A girls' night, Regina," Kathryn sighed.

Ruby furrowed her brow and handed the cordless phone to Henry, pinching his cheek as she spoke. "Here, buddy, it's Uncle August."

Henry grabbed it eagerly and shrieked into the phone. "It's my birthday soon!"

"So you need a babysitter?" Ruby clarified over Henry's ramble.

"No, I wish for you to suffer with me."

Kathryn stepped in and placed a reassuring palm on Ruby's wrist. "We're having some drinks and watching a movie at Tina's. We're not torturing anyone." Kathryn threw a side glare at the Mayor with the latter statement being directed for her.

"Really?" Ruby smiled at Regina in surprised awe. "You want me to come with?"

"Of course."

"David will be watching Henry," Kathryn explained.

"Who will be watching David?" Regina muttered none too quietly. She caught Ruby's knowing grin and smirked. Maybe Ruby was wrong about the Regina not liking her thing. "So it's settled then? You'll be joining us."

"What should I bring?"

"That's going to kill my grass, isn't it?" August had arrived two days prior claiming his present was gonna knock the socks off of everyone else's, not giving a damn that Regina had fixed him with a curiously amused stare.

Now Regina had wished she had taken him a bit more seriously as she watched with mild horror as a very large and very long balloon house was inflating in her backyard.

"It's Henry's birthday, and you're worried about the grass?" August shook his head.

"How on earth do you come up with the most outrageous presents?"

"What you call outrageous I say amazing, wonderful, the best."

Regina rolled her eyes.

"It goes with the theme of the party," the man argued, leaning heavily on his cane.

Regina surveyed the jumping castle again and frowned. It wasn't so much as a castle as it was an inflatable obstacle course, stretching from one end of her back lawn to the other. Entrance to the course involved a tunnel brave souls scurried through before dropping down into a series of inflatable half poles. Every step would bring a pole swinging to the unsuspecting victim's face, adding in to the fact that numerous children would try to attempt it at once made it all the more of a death trap. Surviving that brought on a rope. An actual rope hanging over an inflatable wall that was meant to be climbed in lieu of steps that sloped down into a grand slide where the children would roll down and out and hurry to do it all over again.

Regina shuddered and turned to question August's sanity once more, but the twinkling in his eye told her it was a lost battle. No doubt he was plotting ways in which he would be able to have a go at it. She expected to find his prosthetic laying forgotten by the entrance of the bounce course while the man timed his speed through the obstacles. What on earth did she get herself into?

"You," she began, struggling to find the proper word to shame him, but then Henry came bounding out of the house, already dressed in his Halloween army costume and gasping in wonder at the present in his backyard.

"Is that mine?!" He was was already racing to it, kicking off his boots to crawl onto the tunnel platform.

Regina shook her head at August who looked much too pleased with himself before calling out to her son. "Uncle August got it for you for the day, sweetie."

Henry hadn't heard a word as the obstacle course bounced under his weight, the poles just after the tunnel swinging back and forth and knocking him down happily.

"Emma would have gotten a load of this," Kathryn commented as she sipped a fruit punch while both women sat by the patio table. Regina had taken a break from mingling with the parents to sit and survey the children on the bounce course, trying to differentiate between happy screams from ones of trouble.

She smirked when her friend mentioned the blonde soldier. "She'd be just as difficult to remove from there as Henry will be."

"How is she?" Kathryn asked.

"Well, I presume. I haven't heard back from her since I last saw her," Regina admitted but reassured nonetheless, "but Henry and I send weekly letters. Even if she can't get to them, I know how much she loves to read them."

"She'll be home soon?"

"We hope so."

Kathryn chuckled knowingly which made Regina avert her gaze from the bounce house to her friend. "What?"

The blonde shrugged. "I remember when we were younger and picturing our lives and our jobs and our weddings."

"Yes," Regina recalled with a wry drawl. "Were you not the one wanting a horse-drawn carriage?"

"It's romantic," Kathryn insisted.

"As romantic as the limo bus you actually rode in?"

"It was practical."

The women laughed, reminiscing of the times of their youth.

"Did you ever think we'd be here?" Kathryn asked. "You dating a soldier and me on the verge of a divorce."

"You're not—" Regina paused when Kathryn threw her a pointed look and conceded. "No, I never once thought we would end up like this. Reality has forced us to grow up since our youth."

"It's brought about some good things, I'd say." Kathryn patted Regina's arm, and it was then the brunette noticed she had subconsciously been playing with her necklace, the one Emma had told her to wear for safekeeping.

"Great things," Regina agreed quietly.

For the next hour, Regina switched between making sure the adults had their refreshments and picks of the appetizer and snack table and watching over the children carefully. The only incident that occurred was when all ten kids tried climbing up the wall rope at once, all crying that it was their turn, but August and Graham had monitored the situation and convinced them to take turns. Apparently being the Mayor had little influence over ten four-year-olds since local law enforcement and a former soldier were the only ones equipped to deal with the little troop.

When Ruby had notified her that their pizza was ready, Regina went about calling the children in with no success. Emma would probably have accomplished it. The soldier would be involved in the thick of their playing, being Corporal to Henry's Commander, and as soon as Regina peaked over the edge of the course to notify them of lunch, Emma would turn it into some secret mission where she had the kids crawl through the pipe maze, helping the smaller ones up the rope wall, and bounce for a few minutes before sneaking away to the mini picnic tables, set up with army table clothes, napkins, and cups, to sit the kids down to actually eat. Kathryn was right. Emma would have loved this.

By some miracle, Regina had managed to wrangle the children off the bounce course due to some persuasion whispered in Henry's ears that a good Commander always made sure his troops were well fed. Leading his friends to the picnic tables, Regina and Ruby served slices of homemade pizza to the little army, and of course, Regina enticed that if they ate all the side veggies on their plate they could bring the cake out sooner. With the plates empty, the parents fed, and the children still wired on the bounce house, the cake, a simple marble cake with white frosting and tiny soldier figures lined around the edges, came out. If it wasn't his birthday, Regina would have been worried that Henry was having far too much sugar, but he turned pleading eyes up to her, begging for it to be present time, and Regina added another thing to her list of things she couldn't say no to.

So Regina sat, snapping pictures of the birthday boy as he tore through gift wrap and discarded tissue paper. A small collection of army tanks and soldiers piled up beside him, along with stuffed animal toys, books, and clothes. By the time he finished ripping through his last present, walkie talkies courtesy of the Nolans, Henry was already standing ready to play with his new toys.

"Dear, what do you say to everybody?" Regina prompted from behind the camera.

"Thank you everybody!" He grinned to the crowd, stuffing his helmet back on his head and holding the walkie talkie package up to Sheriff Graham for him to open with a practised, "pleeaase."

"Hold on." The room turned to see August easing his way through. His cane discarded and a bulky laptop flipped open in his grasp as he shakily stepped over and around the kids gathered there. He sat on the coffee table, wincing more often than he would have liked, and announced, "There's one more."

Regina furrowed her brow and sat with Henry in front of the fireplace, silently telling Graham to wait to open the walkie talkies before August set the laptop in front of them on the coffee table.

"Is this mine?" Henry asked already trying to tap on the keyboard.

"And you say I spoil him," Regina scolded to the man.

August smirked. "No, it's even better than this." He fiddled with the mousepad, and soon a pop-up emerged with a bald eagle set against the backdrop of the American flag. Big bold letters claimed: "You have received a message from a loved one overseas."

Regina looked up shocked to August from the top of Henry's head. "What is this?"

His answer came in the form of him pressing 'Enter' and soon the screen filled with Emma sitting in front of an American flag in what looked to be a tent.

"It's Emma!" Henry clapped.

The video started, and Emma smiled into the camera, brushing off her cap and fiddling with it before looking back at the camera. "Hey! Happy birthday, Henry. I'm sorry I couldn't be there, but I bet your mom made it super awesome. Tell Uncle August not to eat all the cake. He's letting himself go there."

She shared a laugh with the camera man while August shook his head and rolled his eyes at her statement. "I'm fine," he reassured Ruby who sat beside Tina on the couch. The waitress threw him an understanding wink.

"I really miss you guys. You, and Uncle August, and your mom. Regina." Emma whispered her name, and Regina didn't even realize she had been grinning so widely it surely must have hurt.

"When I get back, kid, we've got a date, okay? Chuck-E-Cheese, laser tag, bowling, you name it. We're gonna eat so much junk your mom is gonna ground both of us, but don't tell her, okay?"

Henry tried hard not to smile and glanced up at his mother where she cocked a knowing eyebrow at him. He simply kissed her cheek and kept watching.

"Okay, you can tell her. She'll probably find out anyway. Regina, you come too. When I get back, we'll make a day out of it. Just us three." Emma tilted her head in thought. "And probably August."

A murmuring sounded off camera, and Emma nodded, running fingers through her scalp hard enough to free a few strands of blonde hair from her bun. "I gotta go soon. But I just want to say, I love you all. And I think about you guys all the time. Take care of each other."

The message ended with Emma's smile frozen on screen. The living room was quiet as if he party collectively decided to give the Mills the privacy they wanted to view the video. Then suddenly Henry shot up from Regina's lap and began pressing at the keyboard, staring expectantly at his mother. "Again?"

Though it was Henry's birthday, Regina found herself with a gift as she inhaled the single red rose and played with the lip of a card as she stood in the front foyer, her back pressed against the closed door.

The house was blessedly quiet by mid-afternoon when the knock came, interrupting Regina and Henry's time as they watched Emma's video message for what felt like the twentieth time once the party goers had departed. Though they had the bounce house until the following evening, all Henry wanted to do once the party was over was to crawl into his mother's lap with Rexy in tow and replay Emma's video.

An hour into re-watching with Regina answering every and all questions Henry had asked before: where was Emma? When is she coming home? Does she miss us? August interrupted to say there was someone at the door.

She left Henry and August in her office and briskly walked to the front door. Perhaps a child had left their loot bag or Tina had lost her cell phone in the bounce house and only just realized. It wouldn't have been the first time all afternoon since she and Ruby made a mad dash for it once the kids began their lunch. Henry's friends loved watching Ms. Tina race Ruby through the obstacle course. Ruby had the speed, but Tina flew up the rope wall and down the slide like it was nobody's business. But when Regina opened the door, the visitor was someone she would have never expected.

Felix, hair cut and out of his usual baggy sweaters and jeans was dressed in khakis and a deep green polo. The strangest part about his presence was the single red rose he held in his grasp. "Good evening Mayor Mills."

"Felix," she said surprised.

"This is for you." He handed the rose to her and nodded happily.

Her eyebrows shot up even further than before as she inspected the flower curiously. "Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, dear, but what's all this about?"

"Oh." He pointed to a logo on his polo, one that Regina had missed during her initial inspection of him and could see roses and vines stitched onto his breast. The Game of Thorns insignia. "Mr. French and Ms. Bell sat me down, and we all had a long talk about how I can take control of my life and show my brothers the same, even if Peter's a dick." He mumbled that last part with unrestrained resentment but shrugged. "Mr. French won't press charges if I work off the damages to his shop and I keep my nose clean." He grinned, proud of himself in that moment. "I might even have a job once the expenses are paid off."

"Congratulations, Felix," Regina said sincerely and held out her hand. The teen shook it determinedly. "But the rose?"

"Oh, shit," he muttered then immediately flushed. "I mean, shoot." Rummaging through his khaki pockets, he pulled out a small envelope and handed it to her. "I always forget that part."

She took it, finding her name printed delicately on the front in Moe French's handwriting.

"I still don't quite understand."

He shrugged and stepped backwards off the porch. "I just deliver the orders, ma'am."

With that he turned down the pathway toward the Game of Thorns van parked outside the mansion, but before he could get very far, Regina called his name. She held up a finger telling him to wait, and within seconds she was stepping out of the mansion. She shook his hand again, a crisp twenty dollar bill sliding into his palm as she smiled. "You're doing a great job, Felix. Your parents would be proud."

Turning briskly she returned to her home and eyed the rose and the card she had left on the side table curiously. The last time she had gotten flowers from Mr. French's shop was last Valentine's Day when Henry had secretly concocted a plan with Sheriff Graham to pick up his mother the 'most beautifulest flowers in the whole wide world.'

She sniffed the rose and smiled softly despite herself before turning her attention to the card and leaned against the closed front door. Perhaps it was from Felix and the teen was too embarrassed to stay and watch her open it? Though it would make more sense for him to dote on Tina. The preschool teacher took such an active role in his and his brothers' lives. Or maybe Henry had planned another flower sending, this time with Uncle August. Though the excitement of his birthday had the boy thinking little of anything else other than the party and sweets he'd be allowed to intake. Out of guesses, Regina ran a nail under the lip of the card, unsurprised to find the 'Courtesy of the Game of Thorns' embossed on the back. Flipping it open, she held her breath seeing not Moe French's elegant handwriting, but Emma's progressively legible chicken scratch written on a piece of lined paper and glued to the inside of the card.

March 3, 2005

Surprise =)

Some guy at dinner was talking about how he was able to call flower shops and jewelry stores and all these things to send gifts to his family back home, and I figured, why not? I don't know when this is gonna get to you, but Moe said that as soon as I send this letter and he gets it, he'll send your flowers on its way. Well, one flower. Hand picked, I may add. Or verbally well-described. If it's anything other than a single rose, then this mission has gone awry.

So this very random rose is just a reminder that it's been six days since I last saw you (though probably even longer when you actually get it), and you're still locked in my brain, keeping me sane.

I can't wait to come home to you and Henry. Be nice to your colleagues, and tell Henry to eat his veggies.

I love you.

Emma

Happy tears welled up in brown eyes, and Regina just stared at those three words over and over again. When Emma had said them at the airport, a part of Regina rationalized that the high emotions and imminent departure prompted them to say such strong words, but their few weeks apart didn't make those feelings any less true.

Somewhere deep inside her, past the irrationality and the fear and the doubt of what the future may hold for them, she knew it was going to be okay.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Disclaimer in Chapter One

TW: Attempted rape and harmful language

May 18, 2005 — Undisclosed Location, Iraq

The sun beat down on Emma's neck as she sat by the lone water pump in the middle of an out-of-the-way village. Their latest assignment was to provide protection to some big shot American developer seeking ways to modernize third-worlds. In layman's terms: protect the rich man as he drilled for oil. That wasn't what they told the locals, though Emma knew they weren't stupid. Doing some researching; paying it forward; whatever they wanted to call it nowadays. It wasn't like either party had a choice in the matter, and if the locals did, what tiny village would fight against a bunch of strange men armed to the teeth with guns and ammunition?

The good part, though, was that in exchange for their forced hospitality, their team was scheduled to erect a mosque for them in the coming months. Some sort of hospital would have probably been more beneficial, but what was she gonna do except follow orders.

While she waited for instructions, she sat on some boulders by the pump and read through Regina's latest letters. She had received a bunch of them, both from Regina, August, and ones here and there from Ruby and Tina and even one from Mr. French saying the delivery was successful and that her next order would be on the house for her sacrifice serving for their country. She grinned at that one.

Getting in contact with Game of Thorns seemed nearly impossible when the idea sprouted in her mind. She'd asked August to handle the wire transaction while in Boston, but the fifteen minute phone call to the florist felt like asking a girl's dad for permission to date his daughter. It was nerve wracking explaining the delivery to Moe, and Emma wasn't sure if he was willing to do it or if it was going to work, but reading Regina's latest letter, she knew it had been worth it.

You never cease to amaze me, the letter had said. I absolutely had no idea what was happening when Felix showed up at my door — he's working the shop now, did you know? But it was lovely. I'm not sure if you planned it, but the flower arrived the same day as Henry's birthday party. We had been watching your video message over and over. Happy coincidences, perhaps, but it certainly felt like two Mills were celebrating their birthday that day.

I haven't stopped thinking about you either. Come home safe to us.

And I love you too.

Regina

The smile unconsciously broke out over the soldier's face. Those three words felt like energy coursing through her, backing her up and pumping her up, ready to take on anything. It amazed her that although that little rose and less than five-hundred word note had been the only thing Emma had managed to send since their stolen week in Boston, three months later she and Regina were still going strong.

A young woman dressed in an abayah and carrying a long pole with two buckets on either end approached the pump and bowed her head, averting her gaze from Emma. The blonde had been used to it by now and had long ago stopped taking offence to it. A woman could get stoned to death for just being polite to a soldier. In their eyes, she was the enemy. She was the alien coming into their land and destroying their livelihood. It made her wonder what peace she was really bringing about.

"She's kinda pretty, isn't she?" Kennedy sat down beside Emma and motioned to the young woman struggling to pump the lever. Every time she pushed down only a splash of water dropped out before having to do it all over again.

Emma glanced up briefly, noticing the tanned skin of her face, the only visible part of her body. She appreciated their dedication to their religion and culture, even if she couldn't understand most of it. After the Johnson's, Emma swore off religion of any kind, having seen too much bad to believe any god would allow the world to fall like this, but the good that she'd seen, in the beauty of landscapes, in her travels, in people, there had to be a greater force out there.

The girl glanced up under their gaze, and in an uncharacteristic move, smiled shyly at them before returning to her task of pumping water. And there, in that young woman's smile as strangers stepped onto her land, into her home, threatening and imposing, Emma believed in the good of the world.

"Yeah," she nodded. "She is."

"So," Ken drawled. Emma glanced at him only to be met with a shit-eating knowing smirk. "Would you do her?"

Emma rolled her eyes and moved to stand up, but the letter in her palm slid out of her hand and landed on the boulder beside Kennedy. He was too quick for her to snatch it, and Emma scowled as he blatantly read her letter with an impressed grin. "Woah oh oh, you love her?"

Emma snatched it from his grip, wincing when she heard a rip as he held on. Her own half was balled in her fist, and she didn't even want to think about the state his portion was. She wrestled the letter out of his grip, and it took a bony elbow to his ribs and a stomp on his boot to get him to let go. The letter was completely torn. The words were crumpled. Regina's elegant script looked like it had been nothing more than a hastily taken note on a napkin. The dirt on her name, the tear through the 'love', a written confirmation that another human being felt for Emma ripped and dirtied. She saw red.

"You dick!" She snapped, shoving him hard off the rock. The thud as his shoulder connected with the ground startled the young woman at the pump, and though she had filled only one bucket, she lifted it and the empty and scurried away.

She kicked the fallen man once for good measure before turning away, muttering curses under her breath as she tried to push together the two halves as if it would magically repair itself. "Fuck," she whispered to herself as she smoothed out the paper. "Come on."

A heavy weight collided against her back and her hands shot out instinctively to brace her fall. Emma had never understood the expression to eat dirt until now as she spat out a mouthful of mud and crawled forward and away from the body on top of her. She got far enough to free a leg and caught Kennedy's shoulder with a heavy boot. He yelled out in pain. "Bitch!"

He grabbed her ankle and pulled. Before long, both soldiers were fighting to straddle the other, to get the upper hand. Punches were thrown, guns tossed to the ground. It was a schoolyard fist fight, and Emma was the scrawny kid held down by the bully, forced to say Uncle and submit.

Kennedy was heavy on top of her. He held her jaw away and gripped hard, enough to choke the blonde. Instinctively she tried to pry his fingers off her neck, but a moment of clarity offered her a solution. Learned from a self-defence class taken in her freshman year of high school Phys. Ed, she held onto his right wrist, locked her ankle around his right leg and thrust and angled her hips upwards. His eyes widened as he lost his balance, and Emma used that moment to elbow him in the pubic bone, headbutt his nose with her helmet when he crouched forward in pain, and stood to just kick the living shit out of him.

"Fuck." Kick. "You." Kick. "You fucking." Kick. "Dick!" Her heavy boot aimed right for his already bruised crotch and he howled in pain, breathy gasps coming through his groaning as he writhed on the ground.

"Swan." A forearm came around her from behind, and she was chucked to the ground behind her to see Cabrera, eyes stormy and pissed. "The fuck you think you're doing?"

"He started it," she spat.

"I don't give a damn who started it. You fight in my squad, you put me and my team in danger and I don't plan on dying due to your oversized ego," he warned.

She wanted to argue, wanted to yell that he had it coming, that he was messing with her on purpose. But she held her tongue and nodded. At Cabrera's raised eyebrow, she tightened her jaw and muttered a begrudging, "yes, sir."

He nodded then stopped down to pick up something from the ground, two crumpled pieces of paper that nearly flew away with the light breeze, and handed them to Emma. "There's tape in the medical bag," he said softly before turning and shaking his head pathetically at the still whimpering Kennedy who clutched his crotch and rolled on the ground. "Get up, Chambers."

Emma was tired. It had been a long day full of mixing makeshift cement out of sand, water, and clay, using it as paste between irregular stones, hacking and measuring beams of wood for stability. After five days of daily work where their squad rotated between building this church and hovering around the developers to keep the locals at bay, Emma was tired.

But, when it was all said and done, she much preferred building than bodyguarding.

The mosque was coming together though, and for that, Emma was glad to bear the brunt of her labour. It was refreshing not to be seen as an immediate threat. Sure, her helmet and uniform were still on as she worked, but her gun was holstered away, and more often than not she'd find herself being shown how the locals built by the village men themselves. The bigger slabs of rock acted as the base, obviously, but within each layer were the smaller, more compressed ones, and with the weight pressured down on them combined with the cement mixture would only make the structure that much more sturdy. It was simple and logical and something she never would have reasoned.

They had finished the west and north walls and were putting up the eastern one. Neal, who had a surprising knack for architecture, had been making a door, nothing more than a simple rectangle at first but after finding some glass bottles littered around the road, his stained glass window project made him into a working machine.

Through some miracle, though it was most likely due to Cabrera's insight, Emma had never been on rotation with Kennedy. She was still pissed at the nosy little shit and wanted to punch him in the face every time she saw him. The medical tape in their health bag could only put the letter back together, but it was gauze-like than scotch tape. The rips, stains, and missing words would still be ever present.

But after a long day in the hot sun putting up a wall, Emma had a few hours to kill before she was set to hang around the developers. She stole away to a quiet portion of their area where they were taking up residence by what the locals called the school, passing by Frederick as he and a group of the older men and women of the village talked about some of the scriptures. He spoke animatedly to one of the few English-speaking men who translated back and forth between the group, and the locals nodded along as they discussed. She finally reached their encampment by the school. To Emma it just looked like a bible study class since the kids never did anything other than read the Quran. A handful of children, some no older than Henry while others teenagers holding the younger ones hands rushed out of the school. A soccer ball tapped against Emma's boot, and she looked up to see three boys, eleven years old by the look of it, and calling in Arabic for her to kick it over.

She grinned, depositing her bag, belt, and gun in the bed of their truck before dribbling the ball over to the group of boys.

"You want to see a trick?" She asked, moving the ball from foot to foot.

They tilted their head intrigued, and she took that as a sign to continue. Getting a feel for the ball, Emma tried to summon everything she had learned playing that one year of intramural soccer in junior high. She got the ball up on her boot and kicked it up, bounced it on her knee high enough that it was eye level, and spun quickly, hoping to catch the ball in the crook of her thigh and calf, but it had been too long since she had done that and her uniform too bulky, that it just resulted in her tripping over her feet and the ball flying haywire.

The boys laughed, and Emma shook her head to see she had drawn a crowd from the rest of the kids as they watched her make a fool of herself. The little boy who was the owner of the ball held it out to her and spoke again.

"You kids just want to laugh at me again, don't you?" Emma took the ball and played knee-ups with herself. One bounce, two, three. She kicked it over to the boy who copied her. Bouncing the ball on his knee once, twice, then a third high over his head. He turned and caught the ball behind him the crook of his thigh and calf, and Emma stared dumbstruck. "Oh, you cheated somehow."

The boy grinned, the children all laughing around him, but before he could toss the ball back to Emma to get her to show him some more moves, the teacher from the school stepped out talking to the group of kids so quickly Emma couldn't catch any of the words. She assumed he told them to go home, to go play elsewhere, for they all turned and scattered in the directions of their homes.

Emma frowned as she stared at the older man with a greying beard and a checkered keffiyeh on his head. What struck her was that he didn't look upset at her or even at the kids, and quite honestly, it was rare to see that expression. He limped forward on a cane and motioned his head toward where the kids once were and muttered one word. "Derasa."

Emma laughed out loud and shook her head. Homework. She nodded and reaffirmed. "I'll make sure they study."

He nodded and retreated back into the school house, leaving Emma to pull herself into the bed of the truck and dig through the bags to pull out the satellite phone she had originally wanted when she made her way over there.

Using her calling card, she dialled Regina's number easily and waited. The three long rings in her ear made her frown when she thought the phone would be sent to voicemail, but just when she thought she heard a double ring, the line picked up to a snippy Regina. "Mills residence," she said in a tone that said make it quick or else.

Emma smirked. "Hello to you too."

"Emma." The tension in Regina's voice immediately lightened. "I'm sorry. City council has been calling me non-stop all day, and I'm just about to put Henry to bed."

"Oh shoot." Emma looked at her watched and mentally calculated their time difference as the static buzzed in her ear. "It's his bedtime there."

"Past his bedtime," Regina said pointedly, and in the background was the telltale sign of Henry giggling mischievously. "But how are you?"

"I'm okay."

"Just okay?"

"I'm pretty sure I just got my ass handed to me in soccer by some kid."

"You make it sound like that's hard to do."

Emma nodded then furrowed her brow finally getting it. "Hey."

Regina laughed, throaty and deep and familiar that Emma leaned against the wall of the truck and revelled in the sound.

"My turn, Mommy." Henry's small voice sounded through the speaker, and Emma grinned.

Before Regina could answer, the soldier interrupted. "Can I talk to him really quickly?"

There was a shuffle on the line and a click and soon, her ears filled with Henry's high pitched voice. "Hi!"

"Inside voice, dear," Regina admonished over the speakerphone.

"Hi buddy!" Emma beamed. "What are you doing awake?"

"I miss you," he supplied as an answer.

"I miss you too, kid. Are you being a good boy for Mommy?"

"Uh huh."

"Really?" Emma asked wryly. "Even going to bed on time?"

"Uh huh."

The blonde laughed, and through the line she could hear Regina's dark velvet chuckle.

"Are you sure?" Regina questioned again.

Then Henry harrumphed, and Emma could see the pout Henry was no doubt sporting.

"I miss Emma," he provided again, though this time the quiver in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

"Hey," the blonde soothed softly. "I know, bud, but I have a secret."

"What?"

"Sometimes I can be invisible and be in two places at once."

"No," Henry insisted.

"Yeah," Emma nodded. "August got to be the cyborg, but I'm like Sue Storm."

"Who is that?" Regina questioned.

"Fantastic Four. Educate yourself," Emma said smartly, imagining the eye roll from Regina. "But I can. Even when you can't see, I'm just using my superpower 'cause I'm always right beside you."

"No you're not," he said though uncertainly this time.

"I am," she insisted. "Whenever your Mom makes you hot chocolate and remembers to put the cinnamon in, I'm there because I'm reminding her at the last minute, and whenever you're learning new songs with Ms. Tina, I'm sitting there in the corner singing along with you, and whenever you and Uncle August are sneaking cookies from the kitchen, I'm there making sure the coast is clear and distracting Mommy from walking in." Henry giggled, and Emma smiled, heart aching as she fantasized her words. "And whenever you've got a nightmare, and Mommy is singing you that lullaby, I'm sitting on your bed too, butchering the song but singing too."

Regina laughed, and from the shuffling on the line it sounded as if she had successfully gotten Henry to lay in his bed.

"I'm there right now," Emma said softly.

"I know," Henry's tiny voice whispered. "Can you sing?"

Clearing her throat and bringing her knees to her chest, the soldier began to sing, off-beat and pitchy, but she sang with all her heart. "Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi amor, arrorró pedazo de mi corazón."

Regina took over the verses since Emma had only committed the chorus to heart, but the two sang softly until the end of the song.

"Sleep now, kid," Emma whispered. "I'll be there when you wake up."

A barely there ''kay' sounded along with sweet murmurings of 'goodnight my little prince' from Regina before a door closed shut and another click sounded on the phone where only Regina's voice came through. "He's sleeping."

"Look at that. I am a good babysitter if I can put a kid to bed from a million miles away," the soldier joked half-heartedly.

"That's a talent of more than just a babysitter, dear."

Emma blushed, hugging her knees closer to her chest.

After a long moment, Regina spoke. "Will you be there when I wake up too?"

Emma laughed once. "I'll be there when you sleep too." She squinted and knocked herself on the head with a closed fist. "That sounded less creepy before I said it out loud."

"Well, you've managed to channel your inner Santa Claus, I'll give you that."

"So does that mean you've been a good girl?"

Regina chuckled darkly, her husky tone unmistakably coy. "And if I've been naughty?"

Emma bit her lip, heat flaring in her chest and spitting outward throughout her entire body. "You're gonna be in a lot of trouble when I get home."

Regina laughed, rich and happy and carefree, like Emma wasn't halfway across the world and was just out of town on business, a laugh that held so much and expected even more and Emma was ready to deliver. "I can't wait."

"All right, you did ten right?" Emma held up both hands showing all ten of her ungloved fingers.

The boy, Ibrahim, Emma had learned after weeks of occasional play, and his friends had been playing soccer every day after their schooling, despite their teacher's and parents' protests. Most times, they would kick the ball over to Emma as she passed who kicked it back to them, and somehow, just by passing it back and forth, they'd begin playing a mini-game with imaginary nets and boundaries carved into the sand.

Today though, Ibrahim had challenged Emma in a game of keep-ups, and not for the first time during their play did Emma scold herself for being too competitive. The kid clearly practiced if his easy ten bounce streak was anything to go by. Why Emma thought he was just some kid playing soccer in the street was beyond her. Hell, she could be playing with the next David Beckham for all she knew.

She rolled the ball between her palms, getting a feel for the plastic as if channeling that energy to her limbs and joints. She could shoot a bullseye fifty feet away with high winds, but god forbid she try to keep a ball bouncing on her knee for longer than a minute.

"You're gonna lose, Swan," Neal heckled at her, sitting amidst the teens who had come to watch the sport. He looked to a teen boy beside him and smirked in Emma's direction. "She's gonna lose."

"Lose," the teen repeated carefully.

Neal laughed and Emma glared. Kennedy watched on silently, sitting in the bed of the truck sipping on the water, providing no commentary or reaction. He shook his head and pulled his cap low over his head and remained that way.

She bounced the ball on her right knee, then left, then twice on her right before twisting her left leg so the inner side of her boot caught the descending ball and bounced it high enough to shift her left knee under it and keep it airborne.

"Sitta." the children chanted. She bounced it on her left knee again.

"Seven," Neal joined in.

It hit her right knee (Thamaaniya) with more impact and Emma ducked to get under it, bouncing it off her helmet (tis'a). Plastic against Kevlar the ball flying, and she raced to get under it, shooting out her leg and catching the ball with the tip of her boot.

"'ashara!"

"Yeah!" Emma fist pumped, but her victory cut short when half a second later she watched the ball fly toward the women of the village, congregated together with their babies and laundry. They screamed when the ball flew between them, seemingly out of nowhere, and scattered away like a grenade had been dropped. Buckets of water spilled, and baskets of laundry were toppled over. Babies were crying in their startle, and if Emma hadn't been the cause of it all, she would have found it funny.

Neal was holding his sides in laughter, and the children were clutching at their mouths trying not to laugh. Some had even started to whisper and ooh. Emma had never felt more like a kid in trouble than now.

She jogged over to the women, arms outstretched in peace as she bent to pick up the ball. "Sorry," clearing her throat she repeated herself in the little Arabic she knew. "Āsif!" She held the ball up and tossed it from hand to hand and explained in English. "Playing."

Ibrahim ran over as her saving grace and quickly explained to a younger woman whom Emma deduced to be his mother what they had been doing. The women of the village scowled at their frivolous play, but said nothing more as they picked up their fallen loads and continued on with their duties. Emma motioned to a bucket, devoid of water, and spoke to Ibrahim's mother. "Help? Can I help you fill it?"

The boy had caught on and quickly translated for Emma. His mother looked uncertain, and to Emma's surprise, nodded warily. She grinned and picked up the bucket, walking the distance to the lone watering pump with mother and son. "Ibrahim," Emma began to his mother, "he's a good soccer player."

She looked confused and pulled him closer to her, but Emma just said his name again and pointed to the ball in his hand and gave them a thumbs up. He grinned proud, and his mother nodded understandingly.

When the pump was in sight, Emma faltered when she saw Spencer standing next to it, hovering by the lever as if guarding the supply. She held her chin up, edged closer to Ibrahim and his mother and walked on forward. "Excuse me, sir."

He didn't move. "Swan." He folded his arms across his chest and stared down at Emma and the locals behind her. "Shouldn't you be with Mr. Davis?"

"I was on my way over there, sir. I'm just helping them get some water."

"They don't have arms?" Spencer questioned, stepping right into Emma's space. "They don't know how to pull a lever?" He ducked his head so his hot breath cascaded down Emma's chin. She held her stance and didn't blink. "Or is she your girlfriend?" He spat menacingly.

She blinked and waited. "No."

"No, what?"

"No, sir."

He scoffed. "Really? She'd be pretty if she took off her turban."

"Hijab."

"What?"

"It's a hijab." She ground her teeth and continued to stare past him. "Sir."

"I don't give a damn what it's called, soldier," he yelled in her face so loudly that Ibrahim and his mother jumped. He grabbed the bucket from Emma's grip and forced it into the mother's hands and motioned to the pump.

"Sir, they'll get the water. I think we should report to—"

Spencer laughed. "You think? That's the problem, Swan, when someone like you or like them start to think." He glared at the family and barked as mother and son just stood there. "Go on!"

They yelped and Ibrahim hid behind his mother. A man called out in the distance, and Emma could see just from the resemblance alone it was the boy's father making his way over to them. Spencer growled and took a step toward the two locals by the pump. Emma had no idea what his intentions were, but the feeling in her gut told her it wasn't good. He stepped in between them, placed her hands on her General and pushed. "Leave them alone," she warned.

The push was half-assed, mainly meant to put herself between a threat, but Spencer looked down at his chest as if he'd been burned. "Stand down."

"I'm sorry, sir, but—"

He didn't give Emma time to explain before he grabbed the back of Emma's neck tight and pushed her forward, leading them back the way she had come. When she tried to look back, she only had enough time to glimpse a fearful Ibrahim, his wide-eyed mother, and his father who was speaking animatedly, pointing at their retreating figures before Spencer forced her chin forward.

They made it back to the schoolyard where the children had gone home leaving Kennedy still sitting in the bed of the truck, napping.

Every time she tried to walk freely in whatever direction she thought they were travelling, Spencer squeezed tighter and pushed her forward, making her miss a step and stumble over her own feet. Finally they made it into the empty school house, and Spencer slammed the door behind them, shoving Emma into the room with little fanfare.

The school wasn't anything like Emma was used to. There wasn't a chalkboard or desks facing the teacher. Quite frankly it looked like a living room, with a rug at its centre, a few chairs lined around the edges, and a table in the corner. The final thing Emma noticed was the fact that there was only one door in the whole room. One door that allowed entrance, and more importantly, exit, and Spencer was standing between Emma and her escape.

She stood on the rug and stared down the man, waiting for him to explain.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Swan?" Spencer began, holding his ground nearly halfway across the room, but his projected voice made it seem like he was yelling right in her ear. "Do you think after serving for the past thirty years with some of the greatest men I've ever known, shot at, spat at, bombed, evading capture, that I'm stupid enough to be blind to what's going on around me?"

"I never implied you were, sir."

"I don't like you, Swan."

"Because I think?" Her voice was a controlled flatness, but even she could hear the impassioned dare in her tone.

He scoffed and took two steps closer. "Because you think you're special. A woman in the army, in my troop," he sneered vindictively and took another heavy step forward. "Some people think you're brave. But I saw it immediately. A dyke."

She took a calculated step backward but didn't reacted to his words. Don't let him get the upper hand. Don't let him think he's affecting her.

"Why else would a girl like you want to play with men?" He was on the carpet now, six paces away from the smaller woman who maintained that distance, taking steps back for every step forward. "It's a shame, really," he mused to himself in a quiet voice. "What a waste of such a pretty girl."

Emma suddenly wasn't there. Spencer was replaced by her second foster father, Alan Montgomery, thin with glasses, friendly, used to play Shoots and Ladders with her. He also used to sneak into her room whenever his wife was working those late shifts at the laundromat. He was a man she could never forget but had so desperately tried to bleach from her mind. Seven years old and defenceless. Vulnerable. Alone in her room. No one to believe her. No one to care about her screams.

Then Emma was there. Twenty-one years old. More often than not armed to the teeth with guns and bullets with padded armour around her, yet she was still that scared little girl with no exit. Vulnerable. Alone.

"Stop." It wasn't more than a whisper, but her brain could only tell her body to retreat to safety that wasn't there.

"And you know it too," Spencer continued. She hadn't realized she had backed herself into the corner until she felt the press of the lone table at the edge of her hip. Never before had she wanted her gun on her than right now, but it sat alone in the bed of the truck, forgotten for a game of keep-ups. "You know just how pretty you are, yet you refuse to share yourself."

"No." Emma finally found her voice, shaky and quivering, but there. "No."

"No?" Spencer repeated, off the carpet now and removing his helmet, tossing it onto a nearby chair. "No, you're going to share?"

She was firm now, back straight as she glared him down. "Back away, sir."

"I don't take orders from you," he said in a low growl. "It's the other way around. Like it should be."

She pushed off the table to side-step him, but as soon as she was an inch closer he gripped her arm and waist hard and slammed her back against the table, the corner digging into her spine. She yelled out in pain and surprise, but instinct took over, and she used her free hand to backhand him across the cheek. "Let go."

His jaw barely moved from her hit, and for a second, Emma almost regretted her decision to attack, but the grip he still had on her waist and the slowly forming sinister smirk on his face ignited warning signs in her head to get the hell out of there.

"Let me go," she said again, louder this time, pushing roughly at his shoulders with one arm.

His fist connected with her face, a resounding crack where his knuckles met her cheek, and though she had taken hits before, this pain shot straight through her like a freight train. Her eyes couldn't help but water, and despite the haziness, she retaliated. She threw a punch and missed dearly when Spencer's fist connected with her gut. She doubled over in pain and felt fingers threading through her hair to yank her back upright, her back arched painfully. Her scream echoed around the empty classroom as she instinctively reached for his fingers but kept her legs flailing, her boot catching his knee. He faltered for a moment, and with a growl, slammed her head into the table.

The wind was knocked out of her. Warm sticky fluid seeped from her nose, and only by the puddle around her face did she realize she was bleeding.

"Now look what you made me do," Spencer hissed.

She straightened and backed away, stumbling in her haste to get away. "Don't do this."

"You did this to yourself."

She punched and caught his jaw, and maybe it was adrenaline or maybe the rumours of him being made out of steel were true, but he kept advancing. He held her by the shoulders, their bodies pressed, and Emma desperately tried to claw at his eyes, but all she caught was his cheek and jaw before a knee connected with her hip.

No, her mind screamed through the pain. She went to punch again, but he caught it, and in some move she wasn't even aware was possible, had her fingers crushing underneath his palm. This time she did scream.

She cried out when he shook her hard, pushing her against the table, and in a move so quick and fluid, had her turned and facing forward, his front pressed completely against her back, and all Emma could do was gulp and stiffen when she felt his breath in her ear.

"You have to learn to follow orders, soldier. Your duty." Then Emma was face down against the table, his left palm keeping her head down while his right fumbled at her chest, groping, then pierced down her body and settling at her waist.

She strained against him, trying to elbow her way out of his grip. "Get off!"

"Oh, I plan to."

Ice ran through her veins, and that little seven-year old scream that went unnoticed rang shrill in her mind.

"No!" She cried out, pushing back against him to wiggle herself free from his bigger size, but all that did was elicit a moan from the older man, and Emma wanted to throw up. The bile in her throat burned, and the tears welling up in her eyes made it hard to see, but oh could she feel. He was ripping her belt away from her, pressing her head against the table so hard she could see stars, then his entire torso was pressed against her back to keep her still, and she just wanted to curl into a dark hole and never come out.

"Such a pretty girl," he whispered in her ear making her skin crawl.

She felt his fingers on her skin at her waist, and she shut her eyes and pushed back against him as best as she could, but his nails clawed at the top of her thighs like every struggle would put her that much closer to the inevitable.

"Please," she choked out, but he was getting closer, more bold. He smacked her head against the table until those stars danced in front of her vision, and in her haze, she could hear metal unclasping and a zipper being pulled down.

Her whole body stiffened, her eyes forced shut, and a song playing in her head trying to distract away the fear.

His body moved. The weight on her back disappeared. Emma gasped out a choking sob as soon as he was gone and moved quickly away from the table, tripping over herself, and falling to the ground, crawling on all fours into a corner.

Spencer was on the ground, a sneer on his face and his hands up defensively as Kennedy hovered over him, his rifle trained right between the General's eyes. Ken kept the gun pointed and spoke into his shouldered walkie talkie. "Serge, we have a situation in the school house. A traitor in our midst."

Her eyes were trained on that beady eyed gaze of the General, and even being held at gunpoint, the man smiled. She tried to turn away but her brain refused. Those eyes would be haunting her in her sleep for years. Kennedy was speaking to her, but Emma couldn't hear. Her ears were ringing, her skin was crawling, her heart was racing. She didn't even realize she had turned over and threw up in the corner until her head hit the back wall, and she brought her knees to her chest. She hugged them, her fingers covered in the contents of her stomach, her chin caked with dried blood, and silent tears streamed down her face.

Kennedy was suddenly in her face, but she stared past him as Cabrera and Neal, who looked sick and angry, picked up Spencer roughly by the scruff of his collar. Emma saw his pants shucked down a few inches below his waist and she gagged, clawing at her arms and neck and legs. Angry red lines appeared on her face as she sobbed and scratched away the evidence of what happened, but looking at her fingertips, blood and flesh beneath her nails, she felt the bile rise again.

"Emma," Kennedy soothed. He tried to hold her shoulders, but she pushed him away.

"Don't touch me!" she demanded in a shriek.

"Okay," he relented softly, backing away with his hands up. "Okay. It's okay. You're okay."

She shook her head, clawing at her hair and tugging at the roots. She hid her face between her knees where her tears tracked on the material. "Don't."

Kennedy hovered over her, and if she had looked up, she would have seen the sympathetic grimace on his face, his own eyes welling up at the reality of the situation, mixed with disgust for the man dragged out of the school house. But she didn't, and even if she did, all she would be able to see were the stars dancing in front of her eyes as Spencer's body pressed against hers.

Derasa: (I hope) means study.

Any incorrect Arabic translations are entirely my fault.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Disclaimer in Chapter One

Halfway across the world, though really 5,600 miles away, Regina was laughing in Tina's loft, a wine glass between her fingers and her back settled comfortably on the futon in the living room. These ladies night as Ruby so liked to call them had become quite a treat for her even though she was reluctant to partake initially. More often than not, David would sit for Henry at the mansion or at the Nolan's, though the one time he declined due to undisclosed deputy business had Kathryn turning a blind eye and draining more alcohol than normal that night and the other three women suspecting curiously since Graham had clearly been free that evening.

Most times they took turns playing hostess, and currently, Tina's one bedroom loft was being used as their entertainment area where she was draped over an accent chair, legs dangling over the armrest, Kathryn sharing Regina's futon with a throw pillow tucked against her stomach, and Ruby on the floor, her back against the futon as she fawned over Josh Hartnett on the television screen.

"Kate Beckinsale was so lucky in that movie," the waitress commented enviously.

"Acting between Ben Affleck and Josh Hartnett," Kathryn added, fanning herself with a palm. "Makes me think I got into the wrong career."

Tina scoffed and stood with her empty beer can, moving to get another. "They're the lucky ones. Have you not seen her in Underworld?"

Regina shook her head playfully when Tina got to the fridge. "It's hard to believe you're the one teaching our children."

"I give them something to believe in." She retrieved her beer and sat back down, popping open the can. "Plus, I turn them all into beautiful singers and ice skaters."

"Debatable," Ruby muttered, making the two women on the futon smile in laughter.

"Out of you lot, I've got the best job here," the curly haired blonde argued. "I guide the future."

"You're not a real teacher," Ruby teased, poking her with foot, making the curly-haired blonde glare and gesture in a way no child she taught should ever see.

"Ugh," Kathryn groaned and held her arms up, shaking her head. "No teacher talk. Teacher-free night please."

"We should trail him one night."

"I could increase the paperwork at the station, so he has no free time to spend elsewhere but home."

"I can spit in his food."

"No," Kathryn shook her head and leaned over to the side table to refresh her third glass of red. "I want him to admit it." She downed half the glads. "Then I'll take half his money."

The women all laughed, Kathryn toasting her wine glass with Ruby's bottle of Smirnoff.

"Never mess with a lawyer," the waitress grinned.

"But you know what gets me?" Kathryn continued, taking half a second to gulp the remainder of her drink. "I still care, you know? Every time he's out working, and I know he's out working, or he comes home and he's pulled a muscle chasing down some petty burglar or even Pongo, I still get worried something more is going to happen to him."

"You've been married for years, dear, what do you expect?"

"To be an unemotional robot."

"Like me?" Regina quipped.

"How you used to be," the blonde teased.

"I could never put myself through that," Ruby said off-handedly before turning her head swiftly back and offering an apologetic shrug. "No offence."

Regina furrowed her brow. "For what?"

"I just mean, I could never do what you guys do. Having a relationship with someone like David who fights crime, being an army wife."

"I'm not—"

"You're an army wife," Tina cut her off.

"You're scared for David in Storybrooke," Ruby continued to Kathryn then looked at Regina, "I couldn't imagine being scared for Emma in Iraq."

"You're dating August," Regina argued, the inflection in her tone rising defensively.

"But he's here," the younger brunette said softly.

Regina was taken aback by the sudden turn of conversation and pressed herself against the cushions in thought. She always thought she was irrational, falling so hard and so quickly for a soldier, for Emma, but to hear it voiced aloud was another story. There was an awkward silence surrounding them with the only sound coming from the television set as Josh Hartnett chased Kate Beckinsale playfully around an airplane hangar. Yes, it was unorthodox, and something Regina would never think she would have done. But things changed.

Ruby patted her leg sympathetically and Kathryn reached over and squeezed her arm, but it was Tina who voiced the unasked question so many residents in Storybrooke asked among themselves. "How do you do it?" Regina quirked an eyebrow for clarification. "Long-distance relationships are one thing, but this—Regina, she's fighting in a war."

"This is not some 1920's battle where she's sleeping in a trench every day," Regina cut in haughtily.

"No, but she has a bullseye on her back just by wearing that uniform. What if something happens to her?"

"She's a good soldier, Ms. Bell," Regina said sharply, her mayoral tone leaking through as if she could block the voiced fears in her head with a quick tongue. "She sacrifices a lot just so you have the right to even voice your doubt in her."

"I'm not doubting her, Regina, I'm being realistic."

"You act as if it's a death sentence."

"I'm asking how you don't think that." Tina was on the edge of her seat now, talking loudly over Ruby and Kathryn's head who had made themselves small as the two women argued. "I'm not doubting her or questioning you. You're so strong, Regina, and I'm just asking how because you, out of all people, would never do something so crazy like that."

"Crazy," Regina enunciated slowly. Tina winced and Kathryn visibly flinched. Ruby was in the right to shimmy over and away from the Mayor as Regina stood from her spot in the couch. "You think I'm crazy."

"Not crazy," Tina amended, easing herself cautiously to her feet. Whatever explanation the preschool teacher had was interrupted by Regina's harsh retort.

"And how crazy are you for solely taking on the responsibility of four teenage boys who have done nothing but vandalize and steal?"

Tina's face darkened. "They're good boys."

"And Emma is a good soldier. Arguably one of the best, and I don't appreciate you slandering her name."

"Regina, I'm not trying to offend you."

"Oh, you don't have to try, dear." She simply deposited her glass on the table and stood, gathering her coat and purse from the breakfast bar.

"Hey, guys, come on, let's just finish the movie," Ruby hoped.

But Regina didn't answer, too consumed in her own head to even figure out the thinly veiled compliment behind what she perceived to be an insult. Emma always came back. Even if it was just for a month, a week, a day, a phone call, she always came back. She didn't need to have that belief stripped from her. Not from someone who didn't understand.

"Regina, don't go," Kathryn pleaded, but all it was met with was a slammed door.

Despite the setback in their ladies night and the silent treatment Regina gave Tina for two solid days, the change in the once hardened Mayor clearly had long term effects since the following Friday, Regina had sent an email saying she was happy to host the next get together. Still, all four women never brought it up again and avoided war films despite how dreamy the lead actor was. Ruby had pouted at that since she had a sudden hankering to watch Saving Private Ryan , but the three of them secretly agreed that a distracted Regina was a happy one.

Regina knew they were beating around the bush about her relationship with Emma, but she couldn't tell if she appreciated or hated it. Pretending Emma was away on business, that she was just a simple cop living in another city, even travelling abroad, could only do so much. At the end of the day, her fears Tina was brave enough to voice assaulted her mind with what ifs and scenarios she had no control over. For two months, she batted away the insecurities, and with every letter she sent to Emma that went unanswered and every day that passed without receiving a call, Regina was going stir crazy.

Until one night her fears caught up with her in the form of a 3 AM phone call.

"Hello darling," Regina greeted sleepily.

"How'd you know it was me?" Emma asked.

"Other people aren't as brave to call in the middle of the night."

"I woke you," she observed not even sounding apologetic. "I know, it's been a while. Things are. . .tough."

Regina settled into the comfort of her pillow, using the plush beneath her to press the phone to her ear as she sighed contently to the sound of Emma's voice. "I don't mind."

A heavy, burdened sigh echoed over the phone as the soldier exhaled as if wishing to expel all that weight. "I really needed your voice right now."

Regina's eyes opened slowly in thought, the what-if scenarios coming to the forefront of her mind faster than she could push them away. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Who's hurt?"

"No one."

"Is it Neal?"

"No."

"Emma." Regina sat up, flicking the bedside lamp on and resting against the headboard. "Don't lie to me."

A hitch in the younger woman's voice told Regina she was close at the very least that she was right.

Emma laughed to herself, a dry, sardonic mock of a laughter at herself as she muttered, "this seemed better when Neal does it."

"Does what?"

A sniffle. "I don't want to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Regina's heart was beating double time. Images of dead soldiers, a disfigured Emma, if Emma wasn't on the line she'd picture her body left abandoned—she stopped herself from letting that thought flourish completely. "Emma."

Long moments of silence passed, and Regina could hear the soft wind blowing in the Middle East where the blonde wasn't speaking. "My General," she finally said. "He got relocated to a different unit. I heard he's in Germany or Russia or I don't know."

Regina let out a sigh of relief, tucking strands of hair behind her ear as she breathed easier. "Isn't that good news?"

"Yeah." But it was barely a whisper, and Regina wasn't sure she had caught it.

"I don't understand," she said slowly. "What aren't you telling me?"

Another breath of silence. "There was an incident." Regina's heart sped up. "Two months back." She held her tongue. "He, uh, he did something."

"To who?" She asked carefully.

"I think you know who," Emma finally voiced.

"What—" Regina gulped and pushed her hair back from her forehead and sat up straighter. "What—are you okay?"

The incoherent mumblings through the line was the only answer the brunette got.

"What did he do?" Regina demanded in a low hiss.

"Noth—" Her words caught in her throat, and there was a muffle over the line, following by sniffling and breathy gasps before Regina could clearly hear her breathing again. In a tiny voice Regina would never have associated with Emma since the blonde either exuded confidence or awkwardness, Emma admitted, "he attacked me."

"What?" Regina nearly shrieked loud enough to wake Henry, and before she knew it, she found herself yanking herself out of bed and pacing the floor as quickly as her rambling. "What do you mean? Are you okay? What did he do? Emma, did he hurt you?"

"No, I just—" she huffed breathily before conceding. "Yes."

"What's his name and unit number?" Regina demanded.

"What are you going to do? Track him down?"

"I'm going to destroy him," she promised, rifling through her bedside table for a notepad and pen.

"He's dealt with."

"Not by me."

"Regina," Emma pleaded.

The frazzled brunette paused at the desperate tone and swallowed hard before sitting down on the edge of her much too large and empty bed. "Did he. . .when he—" She took a breath. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Emma reassured unconvincingly. "He tried though."

"And he's still living?" Regina ground through a clenched jaw.

"I know," Emma said flatly.

"Why aren't you home? Why didn't they send you home?" Regina hugged her waist, completely beside herself.

"My trigger finger is still intact."

"That's not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be."

A tear fell from Regina's eyes, and she shut them tightly, but that did nothing to ease her imagination. Emma hurt. Emma vulnerable. Emma broken. "My love," she said softly. "I'm so sorry."

A breathless scoff sounded over the phone as the soldier took a moment to inhale deeply then exhale and swallow hard but despite the attempt, Regina could hear her clearly. Emma was crying.

"Emma," Regina said softly. "It wasn't your fault, okay? You did nothing wrong."

Regina worried her lip when the blonde kept crying over the line, her thoughts running a mile a minute. Not for the first time, Regina felt completely helpless where Emma was concerned. A million miles away was still halfway across the world no matter how much she cared for the younger woman. But it wasn't in Regina's nature to sit back and watch as events around her unfold. Not anymore. "What can I do?" She pleaded in a quiet desperation.

A soft almost hopeful and breathy laugh sounded from the soldier. "Just, just be there. Be there when I get home. Please."

"You know I will," Regina answered, tears welling up from the flurry of emotion she had kept bottled up.

"Can—can you just talk?" The blonde stammered. "I really need to hear your voice."

Regina nodded and shakily crawled back into bed, resting her head on her pillow as she clutched the phone tightly to her ear. "When I was fifteen, my mother was incredibly upset with me because I hadn't received a perfect grade on a literature assignment. Truth be told, I hadn't even finished the book because I had a riding competition the following month, and at that point I was convinced I'd be in the Olympics by the time I was eighteen."

"You could still probably do that now."

Regina shrugged though the move went unnoticed. "She never supported that dream, so I refused to have dinner with her, and I was starving by midnight and I snuck downstairs to the kitchen, and my father was just sitting by the fireplace having a Mojito and reading a book, and he took one look at me and got up, led me to the kitchen, and he taught me how to make Habaneros."

"Your dad sounds amazing."

"He was. He'd love you," Regina said fondly. "I'll teach you."

"Teach me what?"

"How to make them when you come home."

"What if I burn the kitchen?"

"Then you're sleeping on the couch."

Emma laughed, her tone lifting despite the tense undercurrent always behind it. "Keep talking."

"I took Henry to the park today, and he saw some of the older children riding by on their bicycles and he took one look at his own and asked how come it had a tail. . ."

Try as they might, they couldn't stay on the phone forever, so when Emma sighed during Regina's third story saying she had to go, Regina just nodded and murmured her understanding before stopping Emma with a quiet "I love you." The blonde responded in kind, and with a promise to remain safe, they hung up.

The sound of silence permeated the air, and Regina couldn't help but lay in bed, going over the conversation she had just had and clenching and unclenching her fists in anger, frustration, and fear. For a woman so in control of everything from the outfits she wore to the snacks her son ate, having Emma in her life, already an unpredictable variable, stripped her of any hindsight she thought she could have.

Emma got hurt and there was nothing Regina could do about it.

So she lay awake with the younger woman constantly on her mind and trying desperately to reassure herself that Emma was alive and nothing truly scarring had happened, but that was a load of garbage and she knew it. The psychological scars were already there and now they were bigger. And all Regina could do was lay in bed.

The sun was up before she knew it, and when she watched her alarm clock strike 6:30, she was already moving out of bed on autopilot because if her mind wandered too much on Emma then she'd find herself enlisting in the army and finding that bastard of a General and throttle his throat in his sleep.

Henry proved to be a sufficient distraction since her son had filled her in on his latest dream filled with superheroes and burning buildings and falling damsels and evil villains. She smiled at his imagination and kissed the top of his head before placing a plate of two pancakes in front of him, chocolate chip just because she could.

Her resolve faltered for a moment when she dropped him off at preschool and he had ran off to play with his classmates in a playhouse. Regina stayed by the fence and watched him play until Tina and the other teachers had told them it was time to go inside. She had called his name, and he ran over to her, receiving a kiss and an extra long hug that he had to wiggle his way out of because he was the only child outside and it was arts and crafts day today. With great reluctance she released him, not before catching Tina's eye who looked curious. As soon as the preschool teacher took a step closer to her, Regina shot up from her crouch and pulled together her blazer, returning to her car knowing full well that Tina was watching her every move.

No matter how hard she tried, the budget reports before her did nothing to take away her middle of the night call from Emma. Instead, she had instructed her secretary to clear her day and barricaded herself inside her office where she spent the entire day researching: Soldier deployments and returns; Locating overseas soldiers; and more reluctantly yet absolutely necessary Sexual harassment in the military.

What she found made her breathing shallow and the gears in her head spin wildly out of control. Compared to males, female soldiers were more likely to face harassment from a fellow soldier than get killed in combat. Three times more likely in fact. The number of reported cases of incidents to occur astounded Regina, but the fact that the convictions were significantly smaller made her blood boil.

Dear god, what had Emma been going through over there? She closed out of her internet browser, unable to read anymore statistics or any incident cases and not imagine it to be Emma as the victim in them all.

Bravery was something Regina always associated with the blonde, and Emma being a female soldier, an outed one at that, brought new meaning to the word. When she came home, Regina vowed she'd find some loophole to make Emma stay. Hell, she'd shoot her in the foot or break her trigger finger if she had to. One thing was for sure: she was not going back.

Her wrist watch beeped, alerting her to pick up Henry. Her day spent researching simply added a truck load of fuel to an already raging inferno. As she walked down the street to Henry's daycare, forgetting her car entirely, the statistics rattled off in her brain: nearly 50% of women won't report an incident due to fear of retaliation, 80% of the accused perpetrators remain enlisted, how often rape is the case.

Regina felt bile rise in her throat all over again.

"Regina?" Tina waved her hand in front of Regina's face, and the Mayor blinked, seeing she had arrived to the preschool and Tina had Henry by the hand. The rest of the playground was empty since Regina had been standing there, constrained in thought for so long. "Are you okay there?"

Regina nodded but her eyes were glassy and she reached for Henry with a quiet desperation. "Fine."

The teacher tilted her head. "Would you like to come in and see the craft Henry made today?"

"Yeah, Mommy!" Henry tugged on Regina's sleeve and she robotically followed him and his teacher into the daycare and to his classroom.

Obediently he changed his outdoor runners for his indoors and hung his backpack onto a hook that had a decorated 'Henry' hanging above it. He ran over to a corner of the room where a handmade miniature puppet theatre was located, and in front of the theatre was a table with puppets laying on it. Cloth hand puppets with blue and green and red shirts, peach and brown and one blue faces, string hairs and glued on googly eyes were drying on the table from the excessive amount of glue and glitter the children had used.

Regina followed Henry to the table and crouched down when he leaned over and plucked one from the edge and held it up proudly.

Her lip quivered at the hand puppet in his grasp. The forest green top, stringy yellow hair, and forest green cap was unmistakably Emma, but the added glitter around her neck for her dog tags made Regina grin softly and take the puppet into her palm. "You made this for Emma?"

"Uh huh," he said proudly.

And before Regina could control it, tears were spilling down her cheeks as the emotion she was holding back since three that morning came barreling over the wall she had desperately tried to erect. "She'll love it," she cried breathily, wiping at her eyes.

Henry pouted. "You don't like it?"

"No, sweetheart, I absolutely love it." She pulled him into her chest and hugged tightly, sniffling back tears and struggling to get her bearings.

"Why are you crying?"

It was crazy, really, to hold the Emma puppet and pray with all her might for it to turn into the real thing, but still, Regina tried. She shook her head. "I just love it so much. Why don't you draw Emma a picture of her as a puppet and we'll send it to her tonight, okay?"

Henry nodded and ran to his group's table, bringing the basket of jumbo crayons to him and pulling at a blank piece of paper kept in a stack in the middle. He remained oblivious to his mother whose tears still tracked her cheeks as she stared forlornly at the doll in her hands. The glitter on its chest was still wet, and it would stain Regina's hand and blazer for a few days if she didn't wash it soon, but she didn't care. Because here she was with Henry, missing her, drawing her pictures, and writing her letters, while Emma was over there getting—

"Hey." Tina crouched down in front of her and gently tugged Regina to her feet and further into the corner, away from Henry's attentive ears. "What's happened with her?"

Regina wiped at her cheeks with her free hand, inadvertently glittering her face in the process. "Nothing."

"Don't tell me that. She's my friend too," Tina reminded.

As quick as her tears had come mere minutes earlier, they fell again, only this time accompanied by a half-stifled sob that wracked Regina's body in a way she hadn't felt in years. She fell into her friend, Henry thankfully still preoccupied with his drawing as Tina wrapped soothing arms around her back.

"Is she. . ." Tina cautioned.

Regina shook her head and sniffed back another sob, letting her friend hold her as she stared down at the city rug with streets winding and turning around fibre-encased school houses, a town hall, and police station. A tear slid down her cheek, and she didn't have enough time to catch it before it landed on the carpet, the yellow school bus that caught it darkening another shade from the moisture.

"It's so hard," Regina croaked in a voice she hadn't used since she was eighteen. "It's so hard."

"Regina, what's wrong?" Tina whispered.

But the brunette kept shaking her head, sobbing quietly into the preschool teacher's shoulders muttering the same thing over and over again.

October 12, 2005 — Camp Victory, Iraq

"You think that punching bag has any life in it?" Frederick asked sitting atop the hood of a truck.

"She doesn't." Kennedy watched grimly as Emma, true to habit as she had been a week following Spencer's relocation, knocked the padding out of a punching bag.

For four months, given the opportunity, Emma would hide herself away in a training yard where many punching bags, speed bags, and even an unsuspecting Private needing to spar fell prey to her punches. When they were out in the field, the amount of times she pushed her body to the limits or acted brash left no room to the imagination as to why. She'd never say anything. Just walk into the area in her cargos and tank and begin a work out before it devolved into something a little more personal. Once when Jones obliviously walked up to her and casually asked what happened to scare Spencer off, Emma broke his nose. She had gotten a talking to for that one with threats to taking points away form her, but it hadn't deterred her in the slightest.

Even Neal was only given special privileges enough to leave a roll of gauze on her cot or remind her to eat or the odd times allowed to actually talk to her. But something snapped in Emma, and everyone knew it.

Ken and Fred continued watching her. Upper cut, knee to the ribs, left jab, left jab, right hook.

Ken shook his head and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag. "She shouldn't be here."

"Are you really saying that after everything that's happened?"

"I'm saying she has every right to go home just as any other guy who gets his arm blown off in the field," the younger soldier sneered.

Emma yelled out, punching the bag with no rhyme or reason, and from their spot across the yard, they could see red seep through her bandaged knuckles. A flurry of kicks came next before the woman collapsed against the bag, hugging it as her weak hits landed, just as spent as she.

"She's gonna get herself killed," Ken murmured ominously. Fred didn't say anything though the grimace on his face said he agreed as much.

"Shouldn't you two be doing something else?" Cabrera grunted, tugging Frederick off the hood and pushing them away from training yard.

They staggered away, Ken taking one last look at the blonde woman before flicking his smoke to the ground and stomping on it with a heavy boot.

Cabrera marched toward the yard and called Emma's name before he truly reached her. She had been jumpy lately at the slightest of touches, and even he didn't want to end up the same fate as some of those punching bags. She turned suddenly, still wary, but pushed off the bag, keeping it in between them. Her stance was defensive, her left foot forward ready to strike with that piercing right hook, yet her eyes were shifty as if examining all the means of escape in the open yard.

The bruises on her face from that night had cleared away months ago, but the scars never faded. Cabrera was a hardened soldier. He didn't say much to his men other than to get them to obey his order, and though he had lost men in attacks or simple navigational drives, never before had he felt like he let one of his best soldiers down until now.

"Mail," he explained, reaching into his jacket pocket and removing several letters.

She relaxed minutely, her gaze landing on the letters like it was her golden ticket to a chocolate factory. Her guard was still up as she inched forward and held out her hand for the envelopes. She never willingly touched someone anymore, and she clearly wasn't going to start now. "Thanks," she murmured when Cabrera eased the letters into her palm.

"And Swan?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You're up for a return home next month."

For the first time in months, Emma's eyes brightened at something other than the mail. Her lips didn't curl into a smile, and she wasn't bouncing with excitement, but green eyes that had become a murky myrtle over the past few months shone nearly jade at the sheer hope of his words.

"Thank you, sir," she muttered.

Emma took a step back and clutched the letters to her chest when Cabrera nodded her dismissal. After one final glance behind her as Cabrera watched her walk off, she quickly headed in the direction of her tent and sat on her cot.

Her fingers trembled, both from overuse from her strenuous work outs and from excitement as Regina's handwriting smiled up at her, grounding her back down to earth. If there was any good in this world, it was all in these letters, reminding her that she was missed and loved and safe there. She ran a finger under the flap of the first letter and smiled softly as the first thing that dropped from it were two pictures: one of Henry, his hair neatly trimmed though still much too long by Regina's standards with his army backpack by his feet and a Rexy Jr. sticking adorably out from it. His Levi's and button up shirt made him look like such a little man as he grinned into the camera throwing a thumbs up in front of him; the second was of him and Regina, mother crouched down by her son as they posed in front of the large door of Storybrooke Elementary. Regina with her beaming smile matching Henry's in such an uncanny way that genetics be damned.

His first day of school.

A tear fell onto the outside of the envelope, and Emma finally realized that her watering eyes had spilled over. She missed so much, yet they never once excluded her.

She kept the pictures in her lap and pulled out the letter.

September 6, 2005

Hello my love,

I never realized how much of the voice of reason you are until today when I walked Henry into his kindergarten class and had to be kicked out when I tried to stay for the full day. I could hear you telling me it's okay, and that we'll pick him up later. Later is much too far away. I've taken more pictures than I can fit in this envelope, so you'll get to see every minute of his first day of school process when you come home.

But I'm completely beside myself. You're over there and Henry's at school, and apparently I missed a presentation on the zoning restrictions of the town, but I don't care. I miss both of you so embarrassingly much.

It's not even that much different than when he went to daycare. Not at all. Not really. But it's school. We can't just take him out of it for a day because I've convinced you to go riding even though you insist that kindergarten is optional. It has its benefits. You'll be glad he went.

I know you don't want to make a big deal about what happened, and I know you already know my stand on what we should do, but just don't forget that you're safe here, and you have a home here, and if you feel like it'll be easier to just let it go, then I'll support you.

We're waiting for you to come home.

I love you.

Regina

She smiled down at the letter despite the ache in her chest that had her so homesick she actually felt sick to her stomach. She knew she couldn't keep something like what Spencer did a secret, and even though the squad kept her busy enough to keep her away from a phone (because writing that down was just too much for Emma to bear and would all but immortalize the event on paper), when Emma called her that night, she had someone to cry with, to hold her up and tell her it wasn't her fault.

Regina made it very clear on their next phone call that she wanted her General in a prison cell in Guantanamo Bay, but Emma dismissed her, and again Regina was being patient. Regina was still sending her letters and pictures and drawings that didn't make her feel like the world was watching her, and she couldn't fucking wait to get home. A thought struck her suddenly.

She'd be home for Christmas.

If Regina could tried to maintain a sense or normalcy, then so could Emma, and already her spirits were up and a plan forming in her head. Taking a moment to stare down at the picture of her family, she pressed a kiss to their faces before putting the pictures and letter back in the envelope and hiding the letter in her rucksack. She retrieved a bit of stationary and a pen from her bag and grabbed a book, using it as a desk as she hovered over the paper.

October 12, 2005

How come you get to call me 'my love', but when I slip in a 'baby' it's like all hell has broken loose? A new nickname for you is in order, pumpkin. Sweet cheeks would be fitting too.

God, what's up with Henry and his incessant need to grow up? He promised me he wouldn't. He looks so big in those pictures. He's coming up to your waist now. And to be fair, kindergarten is optional. We'd all have more fun together anyway.

I know you would. I appreciate that, and I love that about you, but I just want to forget it. I've already been told it's not the healthiest options, but I'm looking to see if I can be stationed stateside for the duration of my duty, so it'll be okay.

Speaking of stateside though, I'll be coming home soon. Sometime in the New Year, but maybe mid-February. Keep your Valentine's Day free. And your night too.

Give Henry a big hug and kiss for me, and make sure he does all his homework and sticks up for the little kids. I've got a big hug and kiss for you too.

I love you.

Emma

She signed her name just as Neal entered the tent and nodded his presence. He sat on the cot next to hers and put cream on his burned hand. Months of daily medication had minimized the scars far better than what it was before. "Did you hear?"

"What?" She asked stuffing the letter into an envelope and licking it shut.

"There's talks of moving some high end prisoner across country and we're signed up for the job."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Babysitting again?"

"Through a land mine maze with bullets hailing over us as the other side wants to steal back their prisoner."

"You've been watching SWAT again?"

"Michelle Rodriguez is hot, okay?"

"And also gay."

"No way," he said disbelieving. "Is this some sort of gaydar thing?"

The blonde smirked and shook her head. "It'll take what? Two weeks the most to complete?"

Neal nodded. "We're set to move out at the top of November. They want to debrief us all we can and show us the layout of the route and prepare us for threats."

"You'd think this guy was Osama himself."

"Maybe his right hand man," he shrugged.

She nodded and got up from her cot. "That'll be my last one until I get to go home."

Neal grinned and capped the cream bottle. "We'll be back in time for that Christmas dinner."

For the first time in months, Emma smiled at something other than her letters. "Let's make it count."

December 28, 2005 — Storybrooke, Maine

There was something in the air this Christmas that Regina couldn't quite put her finger on. It may have been that, for the first time, the annual Christmas party went off without a hitch. Henry was able to sit in Santa's lap without crying, and for once they got a decent Santa picture. Or perhaps it was that snow was actually falling, coating the town in a thick layer that allowed Henry to convince Regina to go out and make snow angels, though she caught him quickly enough when he tried to eat it. It might have been the face Henry made when he received a gift from 'Emma' under the Christmas tree of a Fantastic Four trade (because Regina had done her homework and figured out who Sue Storm was). He searched all over the house for the blonde, and when Henry had asked where she was, Regina provided she was at work but had Santa special deliver the gift. It was the truth, in some sense after all, and the surprise he would get in two months' time of Emma returning home would be worth the wait.

That, most definitely, was the reason Regina was so excited about this Christmas. Emma would be home soon. In forty-eight more days to be exact. She had been counting down the days to the soldier's expected arrival, and already Regina had the perfect present to give to her. Be it for Christmas or Valentine's Day, Regina was sure Emma would love it.

A scrapbook filled with pictures and keepsakes of their time apart. Regina knew she couldn't fill Emma in on every little detail in her letters, but the scrapbook could act as a way to catch up. She planned to continue adding to it having already printed out Christmas Day pictures and had Henry's last summer concert at daycare and his first Christmas concert burned onto a DVD.

She couldn't wait.

"Mommy!" Henry called from the kitchen where he was on supposed to be putting on his apron. Regina left her study to find her son already kneeling on a stool and trying to open a new bag of flour. "It's not working."

"Let's see those muscles." He grinned and tried to flex like his Uncle August had showed him, and the little bump of a muscle sprouted. "Good," Regina praised. "You'll be stronger than August yet."

Together they opened the flour. Powder fell on the counter with every tug of the bag, and by the time it was opened, an oval shaped ring of the baking supply circled around the bag.

"Can we make lots of cookies?"

"Lots?" Regina exclaimed. "I don't think your tummy can handle it."

"Yeah!" He argued. "And Unca August is coming and Auntie Ruby and Auntie Kat and Mr. David."

Regina bit back the smirk that threatened to appear on her face at Henry's insistence that David was simply a Mister and not part of their makeshift family that somehow worked. She pecked the top of his head and couldn't fault him for his logic just then and found she didn't want to. She could hear Emma already: "He's only a kid once, Regina. Let him have some sugar cookies."

"I suppose you're right, but you have to eat all your veggies tonight at dinner then."

He pouted and seemed to mull over the deal in his mind. "Just the carrots?"

"All."

"Carrots and corn."

"All, but I'll switch the cauliflower for peas."

"'Kay."

He turned back to the counter, already digging a measuring cup into the bag and plopping it into the mixing bowl. Together they worked on making the dough for the sugar cookies, and Regina's heart swelled with pride at how independent her son was. Save for turning on the stove and putting the tray of cookies in the oven, Henry had done most of the work by himself or guided with a light touch. He even started to trim the edges of the cut out cookies when he saw his mother make the Christmas tree and snowman cookie neater.

As soon as the cookies were in the oven, her little prince had even helped with the clean up, bringing a stool to the sink and helping by putting the dirty dishes and utensils into the soapy water.

There was still time on the oven when they finished with the cleanup. Henry had opted to sit against the island and watch the cookies bake when the knock sounded on the door. With a warning to Henry not to touch the stove, Regina removed her apron and headed to the foyer, catching the clock on her way to it.

Tina was away visiting family, and the Nolans weren't set to arrive until tomorrow. For a brief second Regina imagined opening the door, finding her soldier on the footstep with a smug grin and her luggage in tow. Emma would certainly lie to make a surprise better, Regina had learned that first hand. But she tamped down the feeling when she turned the knob because if she got her hopes too high, finding someone else on her doorstep would be a disappointment she didn't have to face.

It wasn't Emma on her doorstep. It wasn't Tina, or the Nolans, or Ruby.

She held the door to her when she saw the man dressed in his army blues, a medal hanging off his right breast pocket and his rank stitched on his forearm. The left side of his face was burned just under his chin and continuing down his neck, and his right arm was in a sling. Regina liked to think she knew everyone in town, at least by their face, but this man was a complete stranger. "Can I help you?"

He opened his mouth then shut it then pulled his cap off his head methodically. "Good afternoon, ma'am. Are you Regina Mills?"

She knit her brows and felt her heart speed up. "What's this about?"

He opened his mouth again but the crunching of snow behind him distracted him, and Regina looked past him to see August, dressed in a similar uniform though even from her distance his face was grave. "August?"

"Regina," he said softly when he reached the stoop. Though his face showed no emotion, the red lacing his eyes was unmistakable.

A brick settled in her stomach and a lump formed in her throat. "What's happening?"

The burned man looked solemnly at the ground then steered his eyes upward to lock with Regina's. She wanted to avert her eyes, and briefly she did to see that his burns extended to his left hand. It clicked. "It's with my deepest apologies—"

"No."

"—that I regret to inform you—"

"Stop."

"Regina."

"—that Corporal Emma Swan—"

She shook her head and tried to slam the door shut, but August beat her to it and caught her around the shoulders, her sobs wracking her body before she even knew she hit the floor.

The man shut his eyes and a tear slid down his cheek, catching on the crevices of his burned flesh before falling on the salted porch. "—is a casualty of war."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: Yes, I am aware that I'm evil, but to be fair the warning was there in the summary. Bear with me for a few chapters though. This story isn't done yet.

"One for you." Henry dropped a sugar cookie onto a napkin in front of August then grabbed a handful and put them on his own plate. "And one for me."

August tried, he really did, to pull that smile all the way up to his eyes, but he just couldn't. Not when he knew Regina was in her study, sobbing, probably numb, maybe even a little angry, as Neal explained the situation. He could relate to that mind-numbing feeling. Like he had been thrown into the Artic in the middle of winter and told to swim through the freezing blackness only to have the air pressure suck the life out of him before he even had a chance.

When he found out nearly five days ago, his first thought was dread. His second: he was alone. And his third: how was he gonna tell Regina? He was barely surfacing himself. He'd be pulling her down with him and neither had a life jacket.

But misery loves company.

August had the phone picked up an hour after he got his bearings, but he thought better of it. A phone call? Even he wasn't that cruel. He'd be heading back to Maine anyway, but it wasn't supposed to be for this. Not for this. God, what a way to spend the holidays with a healthy dose of devastation. Neal had asked him to wait a few days. He should be the one to break the news. August snapped at him for that one, demanding how he would feel if someone waited to let him know that something happened to Tamara; how he liked it when he found out about his daughter's birth days after she was born. Neal couldn't say much after that, but August would never admit that he was grateful for those few days where he could soak in the reality that Emma was gone.

Christmas came and went and the phone call from the Mills on Christmas Eve went unanswered, only to be returned by a brief text saying he had been busy but was still on his way over. With presents and dread and coal, he thought numbly to himself. He drowned his disbelief in a bottle of Jack and hoped the nights lasted because there was no way in hell he could deal with seeing Regina's broken face.

He had been right.

No amount of whiskey could let him forget Regina's sobbing as he held her in front of her open door, the wracking of her body as her shoulders shook against his chest, and the way her voice grew so hoarse in mere minutes.

It took almost an hour to calm her down enough to move her from the front foyer and another thirty minutes to convince her to talk to Neal. She had yelled at them, demanded they leave her house, get the hell out of her sight, but when Henry came running out of the kitchen because the cookies were done and "Uncle August is home!" she broke down again.

"You gonna eat that, Uncle August?" Henry, in his milk-moustached glory, pointed to August's untouched sugar cookie, his own plate empty save for a few stray crumbs.

August shook his head and slid his cookie over to the kid. "It's all yours."

Henry eagerly munched happily on his extra treat, oblivious to his mother's devastation just down the hall.

Neal watched as Regina poured herself another whiskey, her third since entering her study. She glanced at the couch where he was sitting and seemed to blanch at the furniture before shutting her eyes and downing her glass in one fluid motion. Neal wouldn't mind having one of those. With the way he was feeling, he'd gladly put away half the bottle. He refrained. Emma was his friend. She would have done this for him, so he would do it for her.

She brought the decanter to the couch with her and already prepped her fourth drink at the side table. A slosh of liquid spilled over the side, and judging by the integrity of the wood, Regina should have cared. Instead, she brought the glass with her and tucked further into the corner of the shared couch. He thought about breaking the tension, commenting that she should take it easy, but who was he to tell her what to do in the face of such devastating news. She was playing with the wet rim of the tumbler as she avoided his eyes. From the tension in her neck, the protruding vein in her forehead, and the stiffness of her back, Neal could tell she was using all her energy not to break down again. In front of him, more or less a stranger, but definitely the bearer of bad news. Her resolve was crumbling, every twitch of her eye wanted to slam shut and rewind time, but she was trying so hard to be strong. He respected that.

"What happened?" Regina's voice was hoarse, her vocal cords tired from crying, and she was looking at him now, one hand clutched firmly around her drink and the other wrapped protectively around her midsection. Her eyes, red-rimmed and now make-up free, were wide, imploring, fearful. Wanting to know everything but desperately hoping to wake up from this horrible dream.

Neal had to look away and shut his own, silencing the voice in his head that constantly asked him that same question. The question that haunted him at night and tore at his insides. Where did it go wrong? When he opened them, he began in a flat voice. "It was supposed to be easy. Relatively. Just dropping off a prisoner and then we'd be home by Christmas."

"Christmas?" Regina's voice cracked and she deposited her drink on the side table to clutch at her stomach with both hands.

Neal nodded. "Probably before that. We were gonna go back home after this one."

Regina shut her eyes and a single tear fell down her pale cheek. Her face contorted in a pain she struggled to reign in, and it took every ounce of her energy to turn the sob that bubbled in her throat into a breathy sigh. Her eyes snapped open at his next words.

"She saved me."

Neal grumbled as the truck bounced rockily over the landscape. He was all for road trips — he and Tamara had once driven all the way down to Mississippi for her family reunion. She didn't even want to go, but he persuaded her, saying it was time he met her whole family and have this famous cornbread Mama Benjamin made. She had warned him he would regret it, and the six foot eight linebacker built cousins who knew how to shoot in more ways than just basketball had made sure he did. He felt awkward, out of place, and stood out like a sore thumb. By the end of the weekend when Mama Benjamin made him a plate of cornbread to go and Tamara's cousins had clapped him on the back saying they'd see him next year, it had been worth it.

But here, driving for days and nights on end with nothing but plateaus, the occasional mountain, silhouettes of a far off village, and abandoned towns as his only companion was complete and utter torture.

Not only was the drive so monotonous that he felt like he was going crazy, but whenever the prisoner — Mohammad, a man with a lean build and a face he had rarely seen due to the burlap bag usually over it — was in his truck, the man was either eerily quiet and still or chanting some sort of hymn on repeat. Neal could repeat the words verbatim but ask him what they meant and he couldn't tell you. A part of him wondered if it was some sort of curse. Frankly, he wouldn't be surprised.

But that wasn't the worst of all.

He had been right, that day in the tent. They were living a live-action SWAT movie, and he would have elbowed Emma in the ribs to say "I told you so" if they weren't constantly on high alert and evading threats left and right. A simple drive across country that should have taken no more than two weeks turned into an obstacle course. Most attacks were blatant: a car full of rebels hoping to free Mohammad as if he were the prophet himself driving straight for them and hounding them with slurs and bullets. Some were sneakier: an old woman huddled over on the side of the road with a broken cart wheel and a kind face. That is until a pack of young men, sometimes even teens, would come out with guns and bombs and machetes. Luckily their team had been undefeated, but they had to wait for another crew to do the clean up, and by now, Neal was used to thinking of the consequences of their actions as a mess.

They had been away for a month. A freaking month. He should have been out of here by now. He should have been home by now bothering Alia from her sleep and getting scolded by Tamara. His baby girl would be turning one in a few weeks, and at this rate, he'd miss yet another milestone. He was so close to seeing her he could practically hear her gurgling at him. Or maybe she was already talking. Tamara said she was walking with some help and forming words but nothing substantial yet. He was a little late to walk himself, but he knew she'd be one of those kids who didn't half-ass things. She'd start running in no time, playing soccer, and karate, and beating up boys but still a daddy's girl. He jerked as Emma made a hard turn left, veering off the road to follow the other truck in front of them as they drove haphazardly through the desert. Neal sighed. The rocks out there definitely weren't his daughter.

The landscape started to blend in with one another from their constant driving. Always move. Always change direction. Keep them guessing, Cabrera had said. The enemy can follow a straight line, but to follow a zig-zag, criss-cross pattern and backtrack only to return the way they came was harder to trail. They always met another team some miles away to refuel or switch cars and then they'd be off again. Already Frederick and Kennedy's car leading the way had had to call for a replacement vehicle since their original one had been riddled with bullets a noticeable hole appeared at the side of the armoured truck. These homemade weapons were really starting to piss him off.

This guy better be worth it, Neal grumbled to himself as Fred's voice crackled over the radio.

Neal leaned forward in between the seats, the cushion creaking under his shifting weight, and listened as Emma, keeping one eye trained on the road as she drove carefully up the rocky terrain of a hill, picked up the walkie to give him the go ahead.

"We're less than ten miles from our destination. We'll detour away from the main road. Follow my lead."

"Wilco. Out."

"Finally," Emma muttered replacing the radio. "We'll be there by sundown, Sergeant."

"Don't get too cocky yet," Cabrera warned, surveying the passing land with his intense gaze. "You know what that means, right?"

"We get to go home, sir?" Neal hoped from the back.

"Consider this the darkest hour, Cassidy. Ready to show me what you're made of?"

"Yes, sir." Neal clenched his jaw and tensed at Cabrera's foreboding tone. It was ten miles. Less than that. What could possibly go wrong?

Almost three miles out and they were driving through a dilapidated village. Neal had seen his fair share of abandoned towns before, but this one took the cake. There was no sign of life and barely any indication that this had been a village at all if it hadn't been for the withered, termite-eaten sign two miles back saying they were approaching. It couldn't have been host to no more than ten housing structures, maybe fifty or so people once travelling these roads, children chasing each other, men and women washing and praying, but the walls of nearly all of them had crumbled down to its foundation. Not one house was left standing in usable order, the closest being two stone walls precariously standing, the front one broken down in a slope joined adjacent with the east wall, a few ceiling bricks keeping it together at the corner.

Mainly, the town was just rock walls, dry sand, and broken down fences. Not even a dog had stayed to mourn its loss.

"Do you know what happened here, Sergeant?" Emma cast a glance at Cabrera as she followed the makeshift path the vehicle ahead was providing.

Cabrera shook his head. "From my guess? Someone here was involved in something sinister and they got bombed."

"What's sinister enough to wipe out an entire village, sir?"

Neal didn't get his answer for he lurched forward in his seat when Emma slammed on the breaks suddenly. They were inches away from Fred and Ken's truck, its red break lights on and not moving an inch.

"What the hell was that?" Cabrera demanded over the radio.

"I thought I saw something, Sergeant," Frederick provided. "Movement in the northeast section."

Grumbling into the line, Cabrera conceded. "Keep the prisoner out of sight. We'll do a walk-around."

Slowly Neal, Emma, and Cabrera stepped out of the vehicle and surveyed the land. He pinpointed a wall large enough to hide three or four guys behind it to the south. The remnants of the wooden shutters were hanging at the base of the stone under where the windows once were. Boulders northeast were painted a dark burgundy down its front like some medieval beheading stone. Maybe whatever traitor lived here suffered that fate before the bomb came down. Or maybe he was too far away to see that the boulder was naturally reddened by the earth. Yeah, that explanation made his gut settle.

"What'd you see, Holt?" Cabrera asked as Frederick left the truck leaving Kennedy inside with their detained.

Frederick pointed further east where thick pillars stood in a wayward crumbled fashion. By the looks of it, the building may have been a small mosque once if the careful design on the pillars were any indication. A revered place at the very least. "I thought I saw movement there, sir."

"You thought or you did?" Cabrera grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked outward to where Fred had pointed.

"Thought, Sergeant."

It took a moment before Cabrera brought down the binoculars, and Neal wondered if he actually saw anything out there.

"Whatever it is, it's gone now. Let's get the hell outta here before it gets any dark—"

The driver's side window shattered just above Fred's head, and the four soldiers out in the open dropped down instinctively as silent bullets blasted out the windows of both cars.

"Where are they?!" Cabrera demanded over the shattering.

Cabrera didn't get his answer. The whips of wind from the silencer around the unseen gun stopped and the land was quiet once more.

"Chambers. You alive?"

"Yes, sir," Ken called from the back of the truck. "So is Mohammad over here."

Cabrera nodded and turned his attention to Neal, Emma, and Fred, all of whom were face down on the dirt not moving a muscle. "Get behind—"

Bullets rang out overhead, and this time, Neal could hear and see where they were coming from. From the northeast corner of the village, behind the pillars, behind the walls, behind any piece of stone that could shield them, were men with machine guns trained at them, ski masks over their faces like some petty robbers.

Neal crawled, following Cabrera through the gap between the two vehicles and avoiding the glass that littered the ground. Within moments they were behind the trucks with the cracking of bullets still pounding against their only shield. Kennedy slipped out from the safe side of the vehicle, yanking Mohammad with him. The man was yelling out, calling to his rescuers, but Kennedy elbowed him in the gut, silencing him.

"Anyone see how many there were?"

"Five? Six maybe?" Neal guessed. "Judging from the shots I'd say they're spread out."

Cabrera nodded decisively, moving to a crouch and positioning his rifle. "Let's take them out."

Gunfire and explosions sounded all night long until dawn broke. They didn't break for food or water, and any bathroom breaks were taken a foot away. Better to be seen and alive than be dead with privacy. Cabrera was the only one to get a hit, and that was because Neal had used a grenade to knock down a wall and exposed the guy. In the confusion of the blast, they had managed to relocate behind several broken down walls low enough to shield their bodies if they remained lying down. What got them distance made them lose visibility. Every time they even tried to pop their head up a shower of bullets flew over them, sand erupting where they hit or lodging in the stone mere inches from their faces.

Every so often both sides would pause, letting the eerie quiet fill the air. Sometimes the silence was more deafening than the gunfire, but in that silence, they waited. Act or react. Offence or defence. You played the hand that got you home at the end of the day. At this point, Neal was certain the deck was stacked.

When the sun rose fully in the sky, Cabrera slid down onto his forearms and looked on either side of him where the team was dispersed over the span of fifteen feet. "Sound off!"

Cassidy. Holt. Swan. Chambers. Even Mohammad was alive and well, though well might have been an understatement for the soldiers since the strain in their voices was evident. One long night bled into an even longer morning.

"They've isolated fire on the trucks again, Sergeant," Kennedy called from the end of the line.

"Are they usable?"

"Looks that way, sir. Just hard to get into without getting a bullet in you."

"Serge," Fred said ominously. Everyone turned their heads to look at him, and when they saw him point outward behind them, their stomachs dropped. A dust cloud roughly 600 yards away formed in the southern region of the plane directly behind them. The cloud grew bigger and bigger, and when the dust cleared for half a second by the sheer luck of the wind, it was evident what was in the midst of the sand. Neal's eyes widened just as the rest of the team's did at the realization.

They weren't ours.

Bullets hailing from the north. Threat sneaking from the south. They were surrounded.

"What about reinforcements, Sergeant?" Emma hastily asked.

"Negative. Closest team can meet us only a mile out."

"So we're just sitting ducks then," Neal stated aloud. No one gave him an answer but the shots firing overhead was a resounding yes.

"No," Cabrera determined and pointed to the prisoner lying in between Neal and Fred. "I'm not dying for this bastard, and neither are any of you. Find the shooters and take them out. As soon as it's clear, one of you take him and get the hell out of here. Is that clear?"

"What about—"

"You worry about the others when they get here. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I said, is that clear?!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Whether they all got their second wind or Cabrera's little speech actually lit a fire in them, no one knew, but as soon as they returned to their positions behind the small shield of slab, their aim was precise and methodical. Emma got one hiding behind the pillar. Kennedy got two as they raced across the field from their hiding spot to tend to their fallen comrade. By the sound of the shots, there were two, maybe three left. More than they anticipated but at this rate they could actually get the hell out of here. That small victory was enough to make them all forget the reason they were here in the first place. Why they were under attack, and why, even after almost taking out the northern group, they still had to face the Trojan horse behind them.

It was then the prisoner moved. Somehow he had managed to remove the bag from his head, and though his arms were bound behind his back, the fool scurried to his feet and stood. One stray bullet from his own people could have ended him, but whether his God or Allah or sheer luck was on his side, he remained untouched, jumping up and down, yelling out his presence.

Neal was the first to react to his temporary escape.

The thing about reactions is that they give very little room to think, so when Neal stood up to launch himself at their captive and bring him down because a dead prisoner would have been a waste of time and effort, he didn't care how big of a target he made himself.

The bullet in his right shoulder blade embedded itself easily.

He fell on top of Mohammad, both of them tumbling to the ground as he cried out in pain. The burning in his shoulder made his eyes water, and as much as he wanted to clutch his arm and scurry back to New York with his tail between his legs, he didn't. Cabrera was right, he wasn't dying for this bastard, and if he was gonna die, then Tamara and Alia would know he did it fighting to get home to them.

With his weight on his right forearm, Neal groaned with every minuscule inch crawl as Mohammad tried to squirm away. Every motion sent white hot blinding pain behind his eyelids, but he kept moving forward until he grasped Mohammad by the hem of his shirt and yanked, pinning him to the ground. A breath. It was almost over. But not soon enough. Arabic interspersed with broken English sounded in the distance, getting louder and louder with an engine roaring, and when Neal looked up, the breath he so eagerly took was ripped from him as the rebels approached in an ancient Sedan fifty feet away.

"They're here!" Neal called, grabbing Mohammad with his left arm and dragging him along the dirt. Both arms incapacitated left him squirming like a worm along the ground, but the sooner he got to the truck, the sooner he could get out of here.

Emma was the first to look behind her at Neal's call, and when she flinched to run to him Cabrera yelled. "Find the shooters!"

She turned back, and with precision aiming like she could see through stone and had x-ray vision, shot. A cry sounded to the north and a body fell away lifeless from behind a wall. Frederick fired the next shot, and for a moment, it was blessedly silent. Their breathing was tuned out and the approaching roar of the car wasn't there. Almost. Almost done. Then: "Move! Move! Move!"

They all vacated their positions while Neal struggled to stand on his feet as Mohammad kicked and spat at him.

"I will shoot you in the fucking head, I swear to god!" Neal promised, getting to his knees and tossing the prisoner to the ground who groaned in response. Kennedy was the first to him and carried Mohammad to the first car, tossing him in the back just as Frederick scooted in. Following orders, they were off.

As soon as Mohammad was out of his sight, Neal let the pain he held at bay go, and it rushed him like a tidal wave. It tore through his shoulder and across his chest, and he fell to all fours in a breathy whimper. A puddle formed just under his right arm, and blood seeped through his uniform in splotches just under his armpits. He was so goddamn tired. Fuck, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut as he moved the weight off his right arm. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Come on, Neal. Get up." Hands were under his arms and yanking him to his feet. The pressure on his wound made him literally feel the bullet lodge itself further.

He yelled.

Emma half carried him to the only remaining vehicle, but Neal shook his head hearing the engine even closer. Thirty feet.

He fell to the ground, Emma toppling flat over him at the return of gunshots, and Emma had enough sense to bring them to the opposite side of the wall that had been their defence for hours. Five men had exited the car and ran straight for them, but what they lacked in aim they made up for in enthusiasm. Bullets riddled the area surrounding them with no rhyme or reason, sand blowing up like every trigger ignited a buried mine and stone crumbling at its base that one good shot would knock their only shield down.

"Stay low," Emma grunted.

Neal held his arm and winced, hissing between his teeth as his vision blurred. "This is it, huh?"

"Not now."

"This is what we live for," he continued in a hysterical daze. "Going out in a blaze of glory."

"Neal." Emma peeked over the edge and fired. One down but the four remaining were twenty feet away.

Christ, he gripped his arm. Well if he was gonna die, at least he wasn't gonna be alone. Emma continued firing shots overhead before ducking down with her neck tucked into her chest. She switched her glances between him and the incoming targets before finally leaning closer to him and examined his wound.

"Ah!" He cried, struggling against her grip.

"You need to get checked." She pulled her hand back and came away with a blood-covered palm.

He laughed again, his head dizzy. "Hey, do me a favour." Her face pulled into a knowing frown. "Tell Tamara and Alia—"

"No, Neal."

"Make sure they know I love them, okay?" He gasped and slid further down as the chunk of rock just above his head ricocheted into pieces.

Her face was grave, worry settled into emerald eyes before hardening with sheer determination. "You tell them at your wedding."

"What?"

"I'll cover you."

"No."

"You've got a baby at home. A wife. You have no room to argue." She gripped the back of his collar so hard he choked.

"So do you!"

The only reason he knew his words dug deep inside her was because of the blink and clench of her fist around his collar. "Just get your ass to the truck!" was all she provided as she gripped him close, grabbed a gas bomb from her stash, and chucked it overhead. The gas provided them momentary cover as they escaped from their hideout.

With Neal tucked into her side and her gun shooting outward into the smoke, Neal walked as fast as he could with Emma pulling him along. The ground beneath their feet dripped with his blood, following them like a trail of bread crumbs. Glancing under his helmet to the truck ten feet away, he could see Cabrera's gun sticking out of the broken passenger side window firing at the four men running towards them. A cry and a thud. Spots clouded his eyesight, and he lost feeling in his right arm, the limb so stiff he couldn't even move it if he tried.

The gas cleared. Ten feet. A bullet lodged in the tail lights of the truck.

The driver's side back door popped open, and Cabrera had relocated behind the wheel, his rifle trained just behind them as he fired off shots. "Come on, move!"

They were almost there. They'd duck in the back, and Cabrera would get them out, and they'd meet up with Fred and Ken and be home free. They were gonna make it.

Neal had leaped inside the backseat when he heard it.

Emma's cry of pain reverberated in Neal's ear, and the weight against him was suddenly gone, the momentum of her loss pushing him further into the backseat. Less than a foot away from the open door was Emma on the ground, blood seeping from a leg.

"Em!" Neal cried, hurrying to shimmy around and reach out. Her hand was outstretched and he could feel the tips of her fingers, but he jerked his hand away at a gunshot, just in time as a bullet passed between them.

Emma wasn't so lucky. The blood from her hand and leg pooled in a mixture below her as she writhed on the dirt ground, curled inward to stop the pain surrounding her body.

No no no no!

His eyes were so focused on Emma he didn't notice the man standing over her body, his gun trained right between Neal's eyes.

"Down!" Cabrera yelled, and Neal listened. He ducked. A shot fired. Then another. Pain ripped through his right shoulder, fresh blood seeping from his right bicep. He made eye contact with Emma, a dead shooter lying inches from her head and more rushing toward her. The last thing he saw before everything went black was her kicking the door shut.

"I woke up in the infirmary two days later," Neal explained flatly. "The prisoner was safely relocated. The guys were okay. Cabrera said that they had surrounded her. He didn't have a choice. They went back to the site while I was knocked out." He shut his eyes and shuddered. "They couldn't find her body."

"W-what?" Regina croaked.

"There was blood, mine and hers. Bodies of the guys we took out. The car they came in wasn't even there, but they found it abandoned by a hill top a few days later."

Regina sat there as she processed his words, her mouth parted in bewilderment. If she hadn't have blinked Neal would have thought she was frozen in shock. He focused on the grooves of the hardwood beneath his feet, dark mahogany swirls etched into the rich chocolate wood, his fists pressed against his lips as if to keep his mouth shut because after recounting that tale, he didn't even have the strength to lift his head off his shoulders. He should have pulled her in. He should have done something. The pain in his shoulder from the two bullets hadn't gone away yet, and he massaged a palm over his shoulder to ease the tension. "Casualty," he began slowly in a low murmur, "doesn't always mean dead."

Still she was silent, so Neal reached down to a forgotten bag by his feet and pulled out the first thing stuffed in there. A toy dinosaur that he knew Emma slept with when she could, and for the first time he was close enough to the toy to see 'Henry Mills' inked on the tag. A soft gasp made him look up, and Regina was eyeing the dinosaur like it was Emma herself. He held it out to her, and Regina took it, clutching the plush to her chest. Silently he placed the bag in between them and emptied it reverently. Clothes, books, letters, pictures. All Emma's.

He let Regina study them, but aside from the dinosaur, Regina didn't move to touch them as if one touch would confirm that Emma indeed was not coming back.

"Where is it?" Regina whispered.

"What?"

"Where is it? Where's her dog tag?"

He scrunched up his face and sat up straight. "What—"

"You're supposed to bring it back!" Her voice was pitchy and her eyes were glassy all over again. "She's still out there! She's alone! You were supposed to bring it back!"

He held his hand out defensively. "We couldn't—"

"You left her!" Neal ducked as Regina grabbed a throw pillow and threw it right over his head. When he straightened again, he was met with a frantic, desperate woman, pacing the length of her study as she held herself. "She's okay. She's just missing. She'll come home soon."

"Regina—" Neal stopped himself when she glared at him. "Ms. Mills, she may be. For all we know—"

"You know nothing," Regina hissed, storming towards him so quickly that Neal almost took a step back. "You left her to die!"

August stepped into the room suddenly, already holding Regina by the arms again as she cried out. "You left her!" Regina screamed passed him.

A chill ran down Neal's spine as the woman sobbed into his former Sergeant's chest.

"You left her," Regina repeated devastated.

Neal shut his eyes, feeling Emma's fingertips so close to his own before the sound of a gun he'd never forget forced his eyes open. "I know."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: Slightly quicker update to make up for the crappy episode that was last night. Thank you so much for your reviews, alerts, and favourites!

Kathryn opened her front door, hopeful to see a certain brunette Mayor but finding it was simply her husband, looking sheepish and apologetic. Her face dropped significantly in disappointment and she didn't bother trying to hide it.

"I'm sorry for intruding on girls' night," David explained, stepping through the threshold and grazing her forehead with his lips in greeting, "but I forgot my badge."

He greeted Tina and Ruby with a friendly wave before darting upstairs and returning half a minute later, stomping down the carpeted hardwood in his haste. "All right, got it. I'm out of your hair."

He was a step outside the door when Kathryn called him back. "David?" She pointed to the side table where his badge lay untouched. "Your badge?"

He pursed his lips into an uncomfortable smile before nodding. "Right." He grabbed his badge quickly and headed out the door.

Kathryn let the door slam shut as she turned back to her friends with a frown etched on her face.

"I don't get how him and MM can continue to keep this up," Ruby commented as the ladies retreated to the kitchen for appetizer prep. "I mean, I've talked to her, and she keeps denying it, but you can tell on her face she's conflicted."

"She's conflicted?" Tina scoffed. "David was the one who made the commitment, and it's not like she's some oblivious mistress. She knows who the Deputy is married to."

Kathryn held up her hands and scrunched up her face in displeasure. "Regardless. I don't care about him tonight. Has anyone talked to Regina?"

Tina shook her head, pulling from the freezer some frozen spinach puffs and tearing into the box. "We were supposed to meet after New Year's when I got back from New Zealand, but she hasn't returned my phone calls and she's not answering her door."

"She's alive," Ruby added, cutting into some avocados. "I see the lights on in the house when me and Red go for a run in the morning."

"She hasn't been in the office either," Kathryn thought aloud, recounting the times over the past month where her firm had been working a case in the courtroom in Town Hall and Regina had not been spotted anywhere. Just last week, Kathryn had tried to visit the office, but the door had been closed shut and Regina's secretary had said she had been working from home. Judging by the pile-high stacks of manila folders and files on her desk, Kathryn wondered how much work was actually getting done.

"The diner is buzzing though," Ruby informed, holding her chin on both fists as she leaned over the table top. "People notice when the Mayor stops showing up for work."

"Councilman James has been signing off on things Regina usually keeps for herself," Kathryn added. "Actually the entire council has been swamped with work."

"I'm hearing crazy theories," the waitress continued. "Some people have even said she might be pregnant if, you know, Emma wasn't a girl."

"There is such a thing as in vitro and insemination," Tina provided. "And I doubt she would hide away a pregnancy from us."

"I don't know." The older blonde poured them all a glass of wine and stared thoughtfully into the red liquid as it swirled gently at the bottom of the glass, ripples cascading out as the wine settled. Kathryn frowned. "She hasn't acted this way since. . ."

She trailed off, bit her lip, and furrowed her brow.

"Since when?" Both Tina and Ruby had paused their actions to stare inquisitively at their older friend.

"Since her parents died."

Years of friendship had put them all on the same wavelength, and the unspoken question hung in the air.

"Is it the anniversary of their death?" Ruby hoped, steering away from the looming topic.

Kathryn shook her head and pressed the lip of her glass to her mouth. "Last month."

"Maybe it's struck her late?" Tina added.

Instead of an answer, Kathryn stepped quickly to the corner of her counter where the cordless phone was cradled and dialed her friend's number. Tina and Ruby resumed their preparation, placing the appetizers in the oven and adding tomatoes to the guacamole while Kathryn tapped her foot impatiently. It rang and it rang before finally directing to the voicemail Kathryn could now recite verbatim. She sighed and ended the call, replacing the phone back in its receiver and shaking her head. "No luck."

"Is it Henry?" Ruby asked ominously, her eyes suddenly wide with worry. "The kid hasn't been around the diner in a while either."

Tina shook her head. "He's still been going to school. Apparently his teachers have been talking about how reclusive Regina has gotten lately as well. All they see is her car picking him up and dropping him off."

There was a moment of quiet with the only thing breaking it being the low hum of the oven and the crackling of the phyllo dough as it baked.

"Do you think—"

"No," Ruby interrupted cutting Tina off from the question that hovered over their heads. "August would have told me."

"He was down here during the holidays," Kathryn pointed out. "He didn't mention anything."

Ruby shook her head. "And now he's suddenly taken a journey to discovery."

"What does that mean?" Tina wrinkled her nose.

"It means he went to go travel the world," Ruby explained with just the tiniest hint of envy and resentment.

"Do you think that's it?" Tina asked. "He and Regina got into some argument?"

Neither woman answered her question, but they all knew, though no one had the courage to say it aloud, that whatever had Regina locking herself away from the world, it had something to do with a certain blonde-haired soldier.

"Emma, is someone bothering you?"

There was half a second of silence that was interrupted by the imminent static on the line, but the blonde spoke, cutting it off. "It's just–it's nothing I can't handle, I swear."

Regina bit her lip, not necessarily believing Emma but trusting her nonetheless. What other choice did she have really? "How much longer will you be gone?"

"Probably a few months."

She scowled audibly.

"Hey." Emma interrupted the complaint that was sure to leave red-stained lips. "I'll be back before you know it."

Regina woke, beating her alarm clock yet again, though that was easy when she hadn't slept a wink the night before. Her dreams wouldn't allow her to get more than an hour or two. How could she when every time she closed her eyes she pictured Emma in a state of utter turmoil—hanging by the wrists, locked in some mouldy cellar, beaten and broken until unrecognizable—Stop. She took a deep a breath. Then another. And another. Her imagination was good at finding the worst case scenario and even better at tormenting her mind.

Her latest dream had been merciful. Simply a memory of speaking with Emma last Christmas. Has it really been a year since she last saw Emma? She shuddered and inhaled shakily. Nearly a year ago, Emma was surprising her at a hospital and now she was lying on the side of the—No. That's enough. She didn't know where Emma was and that was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

Sometimes.

Missing in action. That was the more appropriate term to call the situation. She had wanted to throttle Neal and August's neck for saying casualty. It was laced with such finally and dread. Not that missing in action was any better. Regina was quite sure it just might be worse. This waiting game she had gotten so good at—waiting for letters, phone calls, visits—amplified ten-fold. Waiting for a body to turn up? Her eyes welled up for a second before she willed her trembling lip to stay. She was too tired to cry.

She hadn't been sleeping well for much longer than just last night if she truly thought about it, but she couldn't think about it, because if she wondered why she was so restless she'd remember opening the door to find a man she'd only read about in letters telling her that Emma was gone.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She was thinking about it too much again. Slowly her eyes opened, drawn to the swirled design of her ceiling where the moulded plaster spiralled in groups like a hundred rain drops were falling upward and her ceiling was a ripple effect. She counted the grooves, concentrating hard to only increase her count when she was certain the lines formed into a full circle. Whenever she lost her spot, she started over because it was a lot easier to count circles than it was to lay awake and think of . . .her. Thirteen. Fourteen. Damn. One. Two. She heard the familiar thud that was Henry jumping out his bed and bounding for the washroom, her more effective alarm clock that forced her to get up and out of bed.

He was lucky. He didn't know yet. Frankly, Regina wasn't sure she was going to tell him. She could tell herself all she wanted that she was saving him the heartbreak, that he was a child and he wouldn't understand, he didn't need to know, but who was she kidding? This was self-preservation at its finest. It physically hurt to think of Emma in any sort of distress—she couldn't even handle Emma having a simple, right, a simple concussion. If she just kept pushing it down, she wouldn't have to deal with it. She could pretend for just a little while longer that nothing was wrong.

But misery loves company. Oh god, what was she thinking? Telling her son something terrible just so he could hurt with her. She scoffed at herself and sat up. The Mother of the Year award certainly wasn't going to her for that one.

She wished August had stayed. She didn't blame him, not entirely. He and Emma were cut from the same cloth, and the news of his sister's fate could keep him in Storybrooke for only a couple days. He had to get out of here and clear his head. He'd send postcards. He'd promised.

So did Emma, her mind though bitterly. She shook her head fiercely. It's not her fault. But she told her to be careful! Regina clutched the back of her head and and let it thus against the headboard as she felt her breathing falter.

Now Regina was left to pick up the pieces of a life that for the past four years had been firmly stitched together with Emma's. The string that held them all together was pulled leaving nothing but scraps at her feet. She tucked her legs into her chest and wrapped her arms around them, letting her forehead rest on her knees. That was exactly why she had to tell Henry. He'd never not known Emma. The blonde was like another m—Regina gulped. Her eyes watered. She could have been. Eventually.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she promised herself she was only going to cry a handful of times today if she could help it. Wiping her face on her blanket-covered knees, Regina slid out of bed, donned her robe and slipped into her slippers. She didn't bother with getting ready any further or putting on make-up. She hadn't for the past few weeks.

The only noise in the hallway when she slipped out of her bedroom was the sound of the toilet lid slamming shut. It was followed by the rattling of the doorknob before Henry muttered an "Oh yeah," and promptly flushed the toilet. Light flooded the dimly lit hallway from the open bathroom door as Henry grinned upon seeing his mother and immediately threw himself at her waist.

"Morning Mommy!" He hugged her, bouncing on the balls of his feet in a preemptive need to be picked up.

"Good morning, darling," Regina greeted and bent at her knees to scoop him into her arms. He was getting bigger now, taller and more solid. Her mother would have scolded her for coddling him, but that only made her hug him tighter and press a wet kiss to his cheek which he wiped off promptly with a wrinkle of his nose and the back of his hand. "What are we going to do today?"

Tucking Rexy and Mrs. under the crook of his arm securely, he brought a finger to his chin in deep thought. "Play?"

"Of course, we can play." She made their way down the stairs, adjusting him on her hip to hold onto the railing.

"Eat food," he determined. "Aaaaand watch."

"Treasure Planet?" She guessed, settling him on his feet and ignoring the churning of her gut at the prospect of watching the movie and only hearing the laughter of Emma and Henry as they made farting noises on their arms.

"Yeah!" He raced off to his playroom in a gallop, leaving his mother at the entrance of the kitchen.

The routine of making his apple cinnamon oatmeal helped clear Regina's mind. Too much apple bits, Henry would find it too fruity. Too much cinnamon, he'd refuse to eat it.

It'll give it more of a kick.

Regina shut her eyes, forcing the image of Emma tampering with a perfectly good apple turnover recipe from her mind. If she walked through that door right now, Regina would let her alter the recipe entirely if it meant she was safe. Her ears perked only slightly, hoping to hear a knock or a doorbell or a rattle of keys but nothing.

Keep it together, Regina told herself as she stirred Henry's breakfast. It's fine. She exhaled through clenched teeth before spooning out the pot into a bowl for Henry. She carried a cup of coffee for herself since she didn't have the appetite to put away anything more than a piece of toast or the leftover chicken strips Henry couldn't finish.

She entered his playroom, deposited the bowl on his table where he eagerly sat and began chomping on the dish, pretending to feed the Rex family while his mother crawled into the rocking chair in the corner. Regina hadn't crawled anywhere since she was a baby, but she tucked her foot under her thigh and brought her left leg up to wrap her arms around. Making herself small in that rocking chair wasn't the typical stance of the Mayor who made every chair she sat in look like a throne, but burrowing in the corner was all she had the energy to do.

Her chin rested on her knee, and she only moved to take the daintiest sip of her coffee, letting Henry's chatter soothe her mind.

She had the laundry to do today and wash all the bedding. Even the guest room. That needed to be changed. Henry needed a haircut again, but that would take some convincing so that would be pushed to the bottom of the list. The developers want to create traffic through the town by creating a mega mall. Crush them. Let Felix's younger brothers know that she'll pay them to shovel the driveway and sidewalk. Have her meetings rescheduled again. She could phone conference the more important ones from her home office. Remember to sign off on her secretary's Christmas bonus. Henry's class was having a party for. . .Valentine's Day.

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. Don't think about it. Don't. But how was she not supposed to? Emma said she would be home for Valentine's Day, some fool's prank—No. She wasn't a fool—some prank to surprise her during the holidays. Emma was mischievous like that, but so kind-hearted. Regina paused. Is. Is like that. She's not dead. There wasn't a body. She's just, just not here at the moment.

She scoffed bitterly. A female soldier captured. On the nights when sleep absolutely refused to come to Regina she had sat up and researched testimonies from prisoners of war. Torture. Humiliation. Beheading. And that was just from the men.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut tight. Emma was fine. She was fine. She'd be fine.

"Mommy?"

Regina picked her forehead off her knee and smiled weakly at her son. His eyebrows knit in concentration and just the tiniest hint of oatmeal saved on the corner of his lip. She placed her coffee, now cold, on the floor beside them and used her free hand to wipe away his breakfast. "Yes, darling?"

He held up Rexy and Mrs. up to her face and stuffed them under her neck in a big hug before climbing into her lap. "Are you sad, Mommy?"

Guilt flooded through her as her eyes slowly shut in a silent scolding. She opened them, pressing a kiss to his cheeks and hugging him tightly. Four-years old and he was already so perceptive. He was practically five. Five years since this little tiny baby was placed in her arms and now here he was staring worriedly up at her as she struggled not to cry. Her little prince was getting so big.

Stop growing up, Emma had once said. She couldn't have agreed more.

Regina snuggled against him again and carried him and his friends up the stairs. It was time.

"Mommy?" He asked again as they entered her bedroom.

"I have something for you," she said quietly, gently placing him on the corner of the bed and retreating to her closet where the bag of Emma's belongings lay hidden.

She hadn't been able to look through it thirty-two days ago, and even still it lay untouched at the bottom of her closet. But Rex stuck out of the bag, a habit of Regina's since Henry had enforced in her that his toys needed to be able to breathe. Thankfully she didn't have to dig through much to get the dinosaur, actively turning her head away when the gloss of a photograph skimmed her pinky. Fingers clutched around the plush, she held it behind her back and turned to face Henry.

"Whatcha got there?" Henry asked excitedly, craning his head for a peak behind her back.

She smiled softly and sat beside him, all the while keeping the toy out of sight. She produced it, and the way Henry's eyes widened and his mouth parted in stunned happiness made her heart stop aching for just a little bit. He grabbed at Rex and held him so tight to his chest that stuffing surely could have come out him. "Rex is home!" Henry announced, hopping up onto his feet and jumping up and down. "Rex is home!"

He giggled, holding the t-rex by its tiny arms and jumping in a circle, the plush toys at his feet bouncing forgotten. Suddenly remembering the other two members of the Rex family, Henry abruptly sat on his bottom and scooped Rexy and Mrs. into his arms and hugged them all, a content smile on his face, his eyes blissfully closed as he cuddled in absolute ignorance.

"Look, this is Mrs. Rex," he introduced the female dinosaur to the newly returned male one. "She missed you!"

He made the dinosaurs hug before sneaking the baby toy into the middle and put on a high pitched voice. "My turn! My turn!"

A chorus of kissing noises came the reunited dinosaur family as Henry puppeteered happily. Regina stretched out on her side, holding up Mrs. Rex since Henry's tiny hands could only hold so many toys and made kissing noises to both the baby and her husband.

Continuing in his Rexy voice, Henry used the smaller dinosaur to talk with the bigger one in both hands. "Daddy, did you have fun with Emma?"

Henry deepened his voice. "We had so much fun, little baby."

Then Henry looked up at his mother with a tilt to his head. "Can Emma play?"

And the other shoe dropped as her clever little boy pieced together the fact that Rex was here but Emma was not. Regina averted her eyes briefly, placing the toy in her hand down as she pushed herself up. "Sweetheart, I have to tell you something."

"'Kay." He continued playing, half his attention on bouncing his toys up and down as they moved across the bed while he glanced up every so often at his mother to show he was listening.

Regina took a deep breath and sat cross-legged, extending her hand to Henry who stopped his playing and crawled into his mother's lap so that he straddled her. He cupped her cheeks and locked their eyes in an adorable gesture saying she had his full attention.

She could back out now, Regina thought. She didn't have to tell him now. He was happy now. But he loved Emma just as much as she did. Does. Resting her forehead against his with a heavy sigh, Regina shut her eyes and let out a breathy shudder. "Sweetie," she began quietly. "Emma, Emma—she didn't bring Rex."

"How'd he get home?"

She pulled her head back just a little and couldn't help but dart her eyes to the hidden bag in her closet. If she just locked that bag away, then everything would go back to how it was before. When she used to dread the wait between every letter, now she desperately craved it.

She'd never have that again.

Choking sharply, her eyes watered again and Regina struggled to compose herself. "Sweetheart," she began again, timid and frail and not like anything she'd ever shown in front of Henry before. "Baby, Emma isn't coming back."

"Why?" He whined, his lip quivering and his eyes wide and glassy. "Doesn't she love us?"

"Of course, she does," Regina reassured quickly, wiping under his eyes at the moisture that leaked there. She shook her head softly, her hands tightening around him instinctively as her own tear escaped for the second time that day. "Because Emma—she's. . ." Captured, left for dead, worse.

It took her a half a minute to find a suitable response for the four-year old. "She's lost."

"Lost?" He repeated.

She nodded. "She doesn't know where home is."

"She can drive," Henry supplied.

Regina smiled softly and kissed his forehead. "It's not that simple, dear. She, she forgot where we live."

Henry scrunched up his face. Clearly living in Storybrooke where every street led back to Main which ultimately got to some familiar face who obviously knew who he was was a foreign concept. The only instance he had of being lost was that time when he wandered off into the forest when he was two, though Regina wasn't even sure if he truly remembered it. Then suddenly he sat up from her lap, a bony knee digging into her thigh before he ran out of her room, leaving his mother and the dinosaur family stranded on the bed.

Regina's confusion matched her son's. Quite frankly, she was expecting tears and tantrums. It was the norm whenever the soldier had to leave them, and now, the confusion dominated her heartache as she followed her son's rummaging and found him in his room, dumping his pencil case full of crayons and markers and pencil crayons onto the floor and flopping onto his belly where construction paper sheets lay.

"Henry?" She wondered, stepping into the room. "What are you doing?"

"Drawing," he answered obviously, marking a green construction paper with a big red 'X'. On a beige paper, he drew a stick figure with yellow hair, two green dots for eyes, and a wide toothy smile. Dash lines starting from the figure were drawn in curves and loops, jumping over the gap between the two pages, before ending at the 'X'.

Regina kneeled beside him on the carpet by the foot of his bed, her hair falling over a shoulder as she bent over his work. "What are you drawing?"

A big white lopsided square with a triangle on top was placed next the 'X' before two more figures were added. A woman with short brown hair and red lips and a little boy with shaggy brown hair, and—was that a rat's tail?

"A map!" He held up the two pages excitedly before putting them back down to continue his drawings. Soon trees were forming in the background, along with roads, and cars.

Regina was too baffled as she watched his map come to life. "For what, dear?"

"So Emma can come home." His childish shrug filled with blessed naivety tugged at Regina's chest. He pointed at the some of the landmarks on the page, starting closest by Emma. "She has to go over the bridge, and across the river, and inside the cave, and then she can find our house."

Regina had loved the fact that Dora the Explorer was able to teach her son the basic Spanish she had learned as a child, but never before had she praised the little girl and her talking monkey until now.

A genuine smile, one that reached her eyes for the first time all month, spread across her face as Henry continued to colour in his drawings. It was so simple to him. His logic made so much sense, and Regina couldn't fault him for that. Quite honestly, his simple solution gave her something to hold on to, reminded her that wherever Emma is, she's alive. She just knew it. She knew by tomorrow, she'd be wallowing again, but for now, her son had given her hope. So Regina crawled to her forearms and picked up a pencil crayon, nudging Henry's head with her own as he smiled up at her. "What else can we add?"


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: Fair warning that roughly the next three or four chapters will be solely about life in Storybrooke. That being said, it doesn't mean the story is over yet. Also, there will be considerable time jumps throughout the next few chapters, so I hope it isn't too jarring.

The rumour mill was in a frenzy the day Regina returned to work. It had been the first week of February, and the Mayor sauntered into Town Hall with her heeled boots and her briefcase and took to the job as if her month-long absence was scheduled vacation time and she was returning from Cuba. Neither her secretary nor the council had the courage to question her disappearance, only mustering enough will to ask how she had been doing hoping to receive some first-hand information. Nothing more than a curt "fine, dear" or a "Well, and yourself?" was spared since Regina never gave them much fodder.

Within days, the untouched piles of manila folders, the backlogged files, and the meetings which kept getting pushed back were cleared up with the Mayor back behind her desk. Mayor Regina Mills was back and a force to be reckoned with. Whatever happened to her clearly put her working motor into gear, and the sight of an extremely and already overbearing politician was more than a little terrifying.

But that was the topic of conversation in and around town. What had happened? Where did she go? What stick was up her ass again?

She just had a stay-cation, the citizens guessed. Staving off the preemptive nervous breakdown many politicians and persons in the spotlight usually suffered with a little (or a lot, according to Councilman James) time off. But then Sidney let it slip that he had been ordered to withdraw her name from the pen-pal program immediately, and gossip was guzzled faster than it could be produced.

Emma was coming back for good, some hopeful residents proclaimed, Mary Margaret being at the forefront of that campaign. "She's coming to live in Storybrooke with Regina and Henry. How romantic," the schoolteacher imagined with a sigh.

"Are you kidding?" Leroy had gruffed. "Have you seen the Mayor lately? No. She's been cooped up in that house, and you know what that means?" Leroy made a sick creaking sound and sliced his thumb across his neck. "Sister ain't coming back."

"Leroy!" Mary Margaret admonished.

"Guys, that's enough." Ruby glared at the gossiping pair as she wiped down the counter.

Mary Margaret blushed and bowed her head, but Leroy scoffed and leaned forward on his forearm. "Do you know something?"

"I know as much as you do." Ruby crossed her arms over her chest. "And even if I did, it's none of your business."

Leroy grouched away with his hash brown and coffee in hand while Mary Margaret steered the topic away. It was hard for Ruby to lend an ear when her own speculations were running rampant in her mind. The waitress had a generally good instinct — she had been one of the first people to spot Henry when he hid in the forest — and it gnawed at her to think that Regina had gone from warm friend to cold Mayor overnight because of another loss in her life. Though Ruby was closer in age to Emma, living in Storybrooke all her life left her privy to details regarding the Mills woman, and it was no secret that the kind, bubbly head cheerleader of Storybrooke High did a complete one-eighty when her parents died.

Ruby, Tina, and Kathryn couldn't help but speculate between themselves, they were Regina's friends after all, but their worry didn't ease when Regina had finally answered their calls with a short "I appreciate your persistent concern, but I'm far too busy to continue wasting my energies when the town is in dire need of attention."

It was the most polite way the older brunette could say "leave me the hell alone" and it threw all three ladies a curveball. Every phone call, email, and text was met with cordial politeness, and whenever Kathryn had tried to see Regina at the office, her secretary was under strict instructions that no one was to be allowed in.

Even the excuse of her birthday had Regina shrugging her friends off and saying it was simply another year another number, though Ruby's perceptive ears picked up on the loathing drawl and aching loneliness in her tone.

Ruby and Tina were prepared to give the Mayor her space, but it was Kathryn, over a month later, deciding that enough was enough. She had given Regina her space only to lose her for fifteen years, and she wasn't about to make the same mistake again.

It was risky, showing up to the mansion on a particularly nippy March evening with bottles of wine and alcohol and a tub of caramel swirl ice cream, but they had Graham in tow should Regina kick them off her porch, and Kathryn had a feeling the Sheriff would be put to good use if they couldn't get Regina out of the house.

"Regina!" Kathryn banged on the door with a closed fist. "Open up!"

"You know, I could have you arrested for trespassing," Graham pointed out from the back of the group, shuffling his feet and twiddling his thumbs through his belt loops. His reluctance for storming the Mills mansion was clearly evident. "If Regina says—"

"Well you're gonna have me arrested for murder too if Regina doesn't open this damn door!" She banged her fist again once more and this time a face pressed against the side glass.

"Hi Aunty Kat!" Henry's muffled voice sounded from the other side, his breath condensing on the glass from the cool night air.

Tina smirked behind her and bent down low to Henry's level. "Hi Henry, can you let us in?"

"Henry, what did I tell you about answering the door to strangers?" Regina's voice boomed from the inside.

The boy turned to look at his mother. "But it might be—"

Suddenly Regina appeared behind her son, tugging him away from the door as she struck the group on her porch with a glare that should have made them whither even through the glass. Instead, Kathryn tilted her head to the door and held up a bottle of wine. "Please?"

"They'll be fine," Kathryn said softly, a hand on Regina's arm as she stood at the bottom of the stairs watching Henry lead Graham up to his room where the Sheriff was relegated to in-house babysitting. "If anything I'd be worrying about Graham and his back if Henry makes him be a horse again."

The joke did nothing to ease the tension stiffening Regina's joints, but as soon as her son was safely ensconced in his room, Regina reluctantly allowed herself to be led to the living room where wine was poured and drinks were mixed.

"What is this?" She asked flippantly, refusing to budge from her spot in the archway as Kathryn, Ruby, and Tina gathered around the coffee table, littered with a carton of orange juice, a bottle of soda, snacks, and large bottles of vodka, rum, and red wine.

"An intervention." Ruby pulled open a bag of chips and popped one in her mouth pointedly.

"And what exactly is my problem that the three of you found the need to infiltrate my house?"

"Infiltrate?" Tina repeated offended. "We knocked and you let us in."

"So spill." Kathryn got up and dragged Regina into the room before settling onto her knees before the table. "What's been happening with you?"

"Nothing." Her lips were pursed and her arms were crossed, and Regina refused to sit, instead just stationed stiffly, towering over the other three women in a blatant display of power. "Excuse me for wanting to spend more time with my son instead of gallivanting through the night."

Kathryn rolled her eyes. "Do you honestly think after how many years of friendship, I'm going to accept that excuse?"

"I haven't been unkind to you."

"Ignoring us hasn't exactly been friendly either," the waitress pointed out.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that I had to check in with you every single day of my life."

"Not every single day," Tina said from her spot on the couch. "But your friends would like to be updated if you shut yourself out for three months." Before Regina could scoff, the preschool teacher interrupted with a finger in the air. "Yes. You have friends."

"Annoying friends."

Kathryn shrugged and retreated to the couch, patting the middle cushion determinedly. "Fine. We don't have to talk. We've missed you, and you need a ladies night."

After a full two minutes of begrudging silence, Regina stalked over none too happily to the couch and grabbed at a glass, foregoing the wine set in front of her and taking the proffered mixed drink of rum and coke from Ruby.

"Why are we watching this?" Regina scowled at the screen.

Both Kathryn and Ruby turned a knowing eye to Tina who was incredibly engrossed by Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling on the television. The curly-haired blonde felt their eyes on her and sat up defensively. "It's romantic, okay?"

The four women were squeezed onto the sofa, Regina sitting regally in the middle with her third mixed drink firmly in her grasp, while the other three women lay in tangled limbs over and around each other. When they had finally gotten Regina to indulge in their night, they had dimmed the lights, opened the snacks, and popped in the DVD. Every so often Henry's contagious laughter could be heard from upstairs as he and Graham horsed around. Every time, Regina would pause and listen, as if waiting for any sign of distress, but Ruby would nudge her and smile encouragingly for her to return to them. They released her for ten minutes near the beginning of the movie when Henry had come into the room hanging from Graham's back, claiming he and his noble steed needed sustenance (a word Regina had no idea where he picked up but pronounced as best he could in two syllables). It took three minutes for Kathryn to realize the brunette was stalling in the kitchen and another two to bring her back to the living room, trapped underneath their outstretched legs.

Regina scoffed at the screen, pointing with the glass in her hand as liquid sloshed precariously to the side. "Romantic? What's romantic about encouraging an affair? She's engaged for god's sake."

"Shh," Tina hissed, smacking Regina's arm. "It's the best part."

Rain pelted down on the actors as they rowed their boat to the dock, and suddenly they were yelling at one another.

"I wrote you 365 letters."

Regina's breath caught in her throat because she had not spent the better part of the year knowing that she and Emma had exchanged 248 letters and packages between them.

"I wrote you every day for a year."

Regina tensed and shut her eyes, finishing off her drink in a quick gulp and clenching the glass in her fist so tightly, the crystal should have cracked.

"It wasn't over. It still isn't over."

As if compelled by some spell, suddenly two hoarse words ripped from Regina's throat. "She's missing."

"No, she's not. Just watch," Tina responded obliviously, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Regina?" Kathryn sat up from the corner of the couch, patting Ruby's legs off her own to scoot closer to Regina who refused to open her eyes.

The Mayor shook her head and let it fall back on the couch gaining all three women's attention as they turned concerned toward their friend who struggled to reign in muffled whimpers.

"Is it Emma?" Ruby asked quietly. Regina nodded, using the forearm of her free hand to cover her eyes as she released breathy sobs before curling her head into her arm and letting her tears flow freely.

Tina moved in, burying the older woman in a hug and in moments the other two joined in as Regina cried into their embrace.

"Why are they crying?" Henry whispered as he and Graham glanced into the living room to see all four women huddled up, eyes burning red, tissues littering the floor, and the tub of ice cream shared between them.

The Sheriff looked up to the screen to see an elderly couple lying in a bed whispering to each other, and it all clicked. "They're watching The Notebook."

"That's the TV," Henry pointed out with a giggle.

Soon enough the credits rolled allowing Henry the opportunity to bound into the darkened living room and climb on top of the tangle of women before settling in a crevice in front of Regina's chest and against Ruby's calf.

"Hi Mommy." He held her cheeks in his hands and kissed her nose before wiping away the tear tracks. "You sad again?"

She held him tightly and scooted forward, freeing herself from being the human cushion and stood up. Sniffling once, she pressed her lips to his cheek. "The movie was sad."

"Don't watch it," Henry demanded simply, making the adults in the room grin.

"Good idea." Grabbing the remote, Regina clicked the TV off and placed Henry back on the ground. "Go upstairs, and we'll get ready for bed."

As soon as the boy was out of the room, Regina turned stiffly toward her friends and held herself around the middle. Despite talking with them for the past hour, confirming their fears and admitting her worries, Regina felt more exposed than ever as they stared expectantly at her.

Graham was the first to move, wishing Regina a good night and getting out of their hair. Robotically, Regina began cleaning up the living room until she reached for a wine glass still half full and Kathryn grabbed at her hand.

"Regina," Kathryn soothed softly. "You don't have to go through this alone. She's just missing. She could turn up anywhere."

"Please don't do that," Regina begged quietly, her gaze firmly on the glass and her voice thick with emotion. "Don't promise me that she's fine."

"But—"

"It's been three months, Kathryn. Don't you think I know what the odds of her survival are?" Regina straightened up and for a second the progress they had made in the last hour was gone with a simple glare before Regina blinked, pressing her fingertips to her forehead as she shook her head.

"But she's Emma," Tina piped up.

Glassy-eyed, Regina turned her back and walked out of the room. "I'll let you know when we can do this again."

Though none of the women were surprised, they were disappointed when Regina never called them up to organize or partake in another ladies night, though she never denied them when they singularly showed up to her house or office just to check in. If the possibility that all four of them could be in the same room, Regina made some excuse that she had paperwork to sign or Henry had some lessons or other, which was a complete lie since Ruby had an in with the farm hand who ran the riding lessons Henry had been enrolled in previous years, and the little Mills hadn't shown up yet. Regina couldn't do it. Facing all three of them when their faces showed pity. It's not pity, she could already hear Tina say.

Even if it wasn't, every day that went by where Regina habitually checked her mailbox or sat in front of the television absorbing any source of international news and Emma went unheard from made that tiny string of hope that somehow Henry's map could lead her home tear strand by strand.

One month became two. Henry had turned five, and there was no surprise message from Emma or even Uncle August to bring an obnoxious present. True to word, August had sent a postcard hailing all the way from Germany along with a keychain and a promise he'd get Henry something special. The party was smaller than she had ever had for him, five of Henry's closest friends, and though she was at liberty to invite Aunty Kat, Aunty Ruby, and Ms. Bell, Regina managed to keep herself occupied for the entire day to avoid the women's insistent stare.

Then summer was here, and Henry was out of school, and Emma should have been home six months ago, and every time Regina opened her closet door, she would automatically glance down at the bag filled with Emma's things and force her eyes back up to match her blazer with her skirt because if she remembered the way Emma had teased her about being so formal all the time she was going to rip apart her closet.

What broke her heart the most was how innocently optimistic Henry had been. It was late August when Henry had pulled her from the front yard where she was gardening and past the gates.

"It's Emma!" Henry jumped up and down and pointed down the street, and Regina's breath caught in her throat so hard she choked back a gasp as she followed her son's sight line to a retreating figure jogging down the sidewalk.

Pale skin. Yellow hair. White tank top. It couldn't be.

"Emma!" Henry called out, letting go of his mother's hand to sprint after the jogger. "Emma found us!"

"Henry!" Regina raced after him, the spade in her hand dropped at the edge of her gate and her sun hat flying off with her speed.

As she got closer, Regina could see defined arms and a toned build, and her heart leaped in her chest. Whether she was chasing after Henry or running with him was a toss up, but when he caught up with the jogger and she turned around, Regina's steps faltered.

Alice Hatter. Henry's friend's mother, and most definitely not Emma.

Alice tugged earbuds out of her ear, panting lightly as she smiled down at Henry. "Hi, Henry. Paige is at home right now."

The boy looked confusedly up at his friend's mother, his face furrowed in concentration before Regina caught up to him, pressing him against her with her arms around his shoulders.

"Good morning Mayor Mills," Alice said timidly, and after receiving a short nod, continued on with her jog.

The two Mills watched her depart, and Regina cursed herself for letting her hope manifest in a delusion that Emma was simply running around in Storybrooke.

"I thought it was Emma," Henry apologized, eyes cast downwards in shame.

Regina crouched by him and held him around the shoulders.

"My map didn't work." He leaned forward hiding his face in his mother's neck. "But I mailed it and everything!"

Regina shut her eyes, hating that she had picked the sealed envelope with Henry's map from her mailbox because she knew it would just return back to them. It was locked safely away in her office drawer, and she was just superstitious enough to believe that maybe if she had gone through with the mailing then Emma would have actually found her way home by now.

"It's okay, Henry," Regina whispered, kissing the top of his head. "I thought so too."

The seasons changed more quickly than Regina had anticipated. Summer cooled, giving way to Fall. Henry had started senior kindergarten, and he was secretly loving the fact that Regina called him a senior, though when Aunty Ruby tacked on 'citizen' to the word, he frowned and gave her the silent treatment for half a day.

Regina kept herself busy to the point where all she did was work and go home to Henry. She made sure local businesses were up to regulation code, forcing deadlines to be met in only barely reasonable expectations. By October, she was already in full preparation mode for Storybrooke's Thanksgiving Day parade, but it was in October where Regina couldn't hide behind her work or her son to escape the feeling that constantly gnawed away at her in her unconscious thought.

The Tuesday had started out like every other day. Regina had woken a half hour before her alarm, pushed away her latest dream, and readied herself for the day. Henry was getting harder and harder to wake in the mornings, and Regina hated to admit that he was growing up. She dropped him off at school, drove to work, and at precisely at 3:30 picked up Henry where he sat at his own desk in the corner of her office, where two hours later, they would return home for dinner, playtime, bath and bed. It was all quite routine, and after months of meticulous habit, Regina was ready to call it a night at ten.

But she lay awake, watching the clock tick down until it was half an hour to midnight, and her mind warred with her to move. Don't, it's only going to make it harder to move on. But what was she supposed to do, forget Emma entirely? Not forget, but she needed to get up in the morning, and this will only open up sore wounds. But it's Emma's birthday.

With fifteen minutes before midnight, Regina had enough time to pull herself out of bed and into the kitchen. She didn't bother with the lights. The moon provided enough for her to navigate her way through her kitchen and around her island. In the quiet of the night, she was a shadow to the world, kept hidden from the prying eyes of the town and even to Henry. The clock on the stove told her she had ten minutes left, so she moved quickly, opening the fridge to pull out a cupcake she and Henry had made the day before simply because he asked and set it on the table. Rummaging through her cupboards, she found a single candle, a blue star with a tiny wick at its top. She lit it, and though the candle didn't give off much light, it seemed to brighten the room as Regina imagined the shy smile of the blonde soldier that day she had thrown Emma a surprise birthday party, the firmness of her when Emma had engulfed her in a hug because they hadn't known how to express their feelings yet.

Regina stopped making wishes on stars long before she had reached adolescence. They was useless and pointless. Wishes could never get her to where she was now. They couldn't pay for her college or calm her on the nights when six-week old Henry was colicky. But as she bent over the island, resting her chin on her folded arms and stared at the little blue star candle flickering away in the darkness, she had one wish in her mind that she desperately wanted to come true.

Bring her home.

It was snowing again. For once it actually began snowing by late November and the warning cries that global warming was upon them was silenced if only for the season. Despite the light snow on the ground, Regina had promised Henry that they could toboggan down the small hill by the park, and though Regina kept a careful watch over him as she shivered, sitting on the park bench with a thermos tucked into the crook of her arm and her hands safely encased in muffs, Henry needed little to no supervision as he ran his sled to the top of the hill, sat firmly behind the curve and kicked himself forward, laughing and screaming all the way down.

"Regina." The Mayor looked up to see Archie Hopper, smiling warmly in his tweed jacket with Pongo on his leash. "I haven't seen you in a long time."

"I'm not your patient, Dr. Hopper," Regina replied, returning her attention back to Henry.

Ignoring her blatant dismissal, Archie sat beside her and released Pongo from his chain. The Dalmatian instantly sprinted after Henry who squealed in delight at being toppled over his sled. Regina remembered when Henry was small enough to be convinced that the dog was his own noble steed and frequently tried to saddle him. Now, Henry was bigger than the dog, and though Pongo faithfully stayed still whenever Henry got it in his head that he could still ride him, both boy and canine realized those days were long past.

"How have you been?" Archie asked.

"Fine."

"And Henry?"

"He's perfect."

"He looks happy."

Regina took a moment to answer, lips curling at the corners as Henry wrestled with Pongo in the snow. "Of course he is."

"Are you?" The therapist asked boldly.

Regina scoffed lightly and pursed her lips. "Of course I am."

"I just mean," he began just short of flabbergasted, "I've heard the speculation about Emma."

Regina snapped her head toward him. "I didn't think you would be the one to indulge in small town gossip, Doctor."

"I don't know the details," he quickly reassured. "But I just want you to know that if there's anything you'd like to talk about my door is always open."

Regina stood, withdrawing her hands from her muff and gripping the thermos tightly in her hand. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

With that, she called Henry who looked disappointed with having to cut his playtime short.

With the holidays coming around and Archie's offer still fresh in her mind, the two weeks that passed which led her to the therapist's door on her lunch break had been hell.

Work was a constant stress with the brief power outage that lasted a solid four days. Leroy, in all of his drunken glory, had taken a pick ax to the main power line and shut down the entire town. His arrest didn't help Regina with the loads of incident reports being passed through Town Hall. Though gratefully, the annual Christmas party had been cancelled due to the damages it left in the court room, and that was one stress crossed off the Mayor's list only to be replaced with another.

Henry became ill during the outage, the chilling temperatures making his body vulnerable. He was sniffling and feverish and asleep half the time, and all Regina could do was cuddle with him, giving him antibiotics and rubbing Vapor Rub onto his chest and back to get him to rest.

He cried all the time, and he was restless, and the holidays were coming up, and in the back of her mind, Regina knew what that meant yet refused to acknowledge it. What she ignored manifested in restless nights as cumbersome as her son's, so when Henry's screams woke her that December night and she ran to his room, she wasn't prepared for what he needed to be soothed.

"I want Emma," he cried, still half asleep, sobbing and sweating. His pyjamas were soaked through with sweat, and his eyelids were still closed, but he was yelling out as the monsters in his dreams still had a grip on him.

"Shhh," Regina soothed, sitting him up and wiping his brow with a cold wash cloth. "Wake up, sweetie. It's just a dream."

Still he sobbed, limp as his mother removed his shirt and applied more Vicks to his back. "Emma!"

"Henry," Regina flustered, pressing her forehead to his in a quiet desperation. "Baby, Emma isn't here. You have to wake up."

That only made him cry more, his wailing echoing the otherwise empty house. No matter what she did, Regina couldn't get him to wake as he sobbed.

"Henry," she pleaded, getting up quickly to retrieve a fresh shirt. "Henry, that's enough."

She sat back down, but Henry was still sitting up in his bed, more awake now than he had been minutes ago.

"Moo-oommy!" He begged, coughing and choking on his own hoarse cry.

She shrugged his shirt over his head and pressed his head to her chest. "I know, sweetheart. You'll feel better when you rest."

The beginning bars of their favourite Spanish lullaby were barely out of her mouth before Henry pushed away from her fiercely. "No!I want Emma!" He repeated, louder this time as he sobbed Emma's name over and and over and over again.

Regina shook her head frustrated, tears prickling at her eyes as she spoke in a low warn. "She's not here, Henry. That's enough."

"Emmaaaa!" Henry wailed so loud Regina choked.

"She's not here, Henry! She's dead!" Regina's eyes widened in horror and she pressed her hands to her mouth, shooting up off the bed trying to get away from herself.

Henry silenced, his heavy breathing and hiccuping the only sound in the room. He stared at his mother like she was a monster, and Regina wanted nothing more than to bury herself in a dark hole and never come out. His lip trembled. Her eyes watered. He clutched his blanket to his chest, and just before the sob rang out again, Regina dropped to him, clutching him tightly, and this time he didn't push away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his hair, rubbing his back and clutching his head to her, keeping him as close as she possibly could. "I'mso sorry, Henry. I'm sorry."

That had been her catalyst, the straw that broke the camel's back that led her to the therapist's office on a Thursday afternoon when Henry had been well enough to return to school, and Regina just couldn't take it anymore.

"Regina," Archie smiled when he opened the door. He didn't wait to usher her inside, Pongo getting up from his bed in the corner to greet her happily. "What brings you by?" He closed the door and settled into his chair, watching as Regina kept her attention on Pongo, petting his head and scratching behind his ears, before shifting uncomfortably around the room.

She surveyed the books on his shelf, noting impressively that though she doubt they were ever used for more than decoration, the shelves were impeccably dust-free. Pongo barked, and Regina looked to see that he was sitting on the couch and huffed for her to do the same. Following the orders of a canine, Regina sat, her hand already atop his head as he nestled it in her lap.

Archie continued to wait patiently, and Regina nearly envied the trait. Her thumb nail had suffered greatly as her own patience thinned, specifically waiting for letters from a certain blonde. She sighed and glanced shyly up at the doctor. "I yelled at Henry two days ago."

"What about?" He asked calmly.

She played with the circle necklace, pressing it to her lips as she fixated on the carpet of his office. "I told him Emma was dead."

If Archie was surprised, he didn't show it. He simply leaned forward in his seat and set aside his notepad. "Is she?"

Regina shut her eyes, pressing her forehead onto her fingers as her arm was propped on top of the rest. "A year ago I found out she was missing. What do you think, Doctor?"

"I think you would have been notified if her body bad turned up, alive or not."

"Maybe there is none," she said morbidly, finally meeting Archie's eyes.

"I won't promise you she's alive, Regina. What I can do is help you get through it."

"How?" Regina scoffed with a wave of her hand, her voice thick with strained emotion. "With your books and the five steps of mourning? It's been a year, Dr. Hopper. A year. It hasn't gotten any easier. I keep waiting for the day where I wake up and don't care anymore, but I can't. Everything reminds me of her. I see a yellow car on the street, and I wish it was hers. I drive by Mr. French's shop, and I remember how she went through so much trouble just to send me a rose. I pass by my guest room, and she's in there doing squats. I can't get her out of my head no matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I push it out." She didn't realize tears were tracking her cheeks until she sniffled, pressing the back of her hand to the tip of her nose. "Henry was sick and he wanted her, and all I could remember was when he wasn't even two yet and sick and I wrote to Emma telling her about it and she calmed me down and talked me through it. She's always supposed to answer my letters, no matter how late she replies, she always got back to them. She promised me she would be safe and now—"

Regina choked back a sob and took the proffered Kleenex from Archie's outstretched hand, wiping at her eyes effectively rubbing off her mascara and eyeliner.

"I want to hope," Regina admitted quietly, hiding her shudder behind a well-timed sniffle. "I want to believe that she's out there, that she's safe and someone is taking care of her, but I have to be realistic." She shook her head as if talking herself out of her own thoughts. "I stopped believed in miracles a long time ago. I can't keep putting myself through this, but—"

"You don't want to forget," Archie provided when she couldn't. When she nodded into her tissue, Archie gently placed a hand on her knee. "Forgetting and letting go are not mutually exclusive."

"I don't know if I can."

"Maybe not now, but in time, you will." He sat back in his chair and grabbed his notepad, ripping off the front page and handing the pad and pen to Regina. "You mentioned that simply writing to Emma when Henry was sick helped ease your discomfort. Perhaps we can start with that."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: YAY for double updates! Quick movements in time in this and the next chapter.

The pen and paper lay on her desk untouched as it had been for the last fifteen minutes. She couldn't even jot down the date because she knew once she got past that, she'd actually have to continue on with Dr. Hopper's request to continue penning letters to the soldier who wouldn't be opening them. This was even worse than when Henry made that map. Her eyes unconsciously drifted toward her drawer where she kept it, and felt the grip on her heart strengthen. It was one thing to encourage her son's naive hope, but she was a grown woman, goddammit. She didn't need to write to an imaginary woman to sort out her feelings.

Cold dread swept over her at the thought.

No, Emma wasn't imaginary. She was very, very real. She was warm, and strong, and soft, and safe. Hopefully. Though that wasn't what she told Henry a few days ago.

Her eyes slid shut as Henry's horrified gaze penetrated her being. Some days all she could think of was the terrified eyes of her son, looking up at her betrayed. Without conscious thought, she picked up the pen and placed the tip to the paper, the date smoothly etching into its fibres.

December 15 2006

Emma,

I—

She dropped the pen before she could even finish the thought, profusely shaking her head and darting from her seat. She couldn't do this. It was crazy to write to a de—her breathing picked up until she was gasping for air. Air. She needed air. She leant over her fireplace mantle and inhaled deep breaths, her throat constricting with every intake.

It was just a letter. A few words on a paper she had spent years doing. Her eyes burned with tears she refused to release, so she pressed the back of her palm to her closed lids as her breath shuddered filling her lungs.

She didn't have to be okay, Regina reminded herself, though the voice in her head sounded unusually like Dr. Hopper's. Not today. She didn't have to say goodbye today.

A few days later, Regina tried again, getting past the greeting with relative ease if she didn't think too much of the fact that she could see the woman in question in her mind's eye, sitting in front of her, possibly smirking as Regina failed to find the right words. It's just me, Regina, Emma would say. I don't bite. No doubt followed by a saucy wink.

Her pen continued, moving down a line as she wrote.

December 18 2006

Dear Emma,

I haven't written those two words in so long, and I feel as if I don't know where to begin. I don't even know why I'm doing this. Dr. Hopper has informed me that it'll help, but I don't understand how. It's just words on a paper, talking to myself. I can hear your voice in my head, and it's part teasing and amusement, and I miss you.

Regina

Christmas came and went with the standard struggle of getting Henry to sleep. The warning that Santa wouldn't visit if he wasn't promptly in bed didn't work quite as well on the five-year old as it had previous years.

"He doesn't always bring you what you want," was his only response as he begrudgingly trudged up the stairs, his light up reindeer slippers glowing with every stomp.

She wanted to scold him for his behaviour, but he was right. The fabled old man couldn't work miracles. Christmas Day was pleasant nonetheless with Auntie Kat dropping off gingerbread for Henry and a rum cake for Regina. The only reason the brunette knew Kathryn was heading out of town for the holidays leaving David to fend for himself was for the suitcase she could spot in the front seat of the sedan. She felt she should ask, but how could she when she spent the better part of the year evading her friend's invitations.

Regina watched as the calendar days dwindled, feeling her mood shift before her mind could even register the fact. Henry was asleep in his bed the evening of the 28th when Regina sat in her kitchen, losing herself in a rum cake that was more alcohol than pastry. She was never one to eat her weight in feelings, but there had been a time or two when she'd drown her sorrows in alcohol, and the rum cake was her best bet. When every piece was eaten, she moved on to the real thing, grabbing the closest bottle her fingers found — Absolut leftover from months ago — and strategically evading her office and living room and kitchen and any room where Emma left her mark.

Out of options she dropped to the foot of her stairs, downing more than a shot from the tumbler she managed to grab as her body doubled over on her knees, her shoulders shaking and her breath coming out in hard, erratic gasps.

This was real. This wasn't just some never ending nightmare she was living. It wasn't some cruel prank or alternate reality.

I'll be back before you know it.

Fucking liar, Regina hissed to herself as angry tears came to her eyes. It's been a god forsaken year!

Her make-up ran down her cheeks when she lifted her head up and poured herself a healthy dose. And then another. And another. And soon she was taking a swig from the bottle and leaving the bottle barely capped at the foot of her stairs.

Merry Christmas to me, she toasted herself bitterly as she stood.

"Yes it is," she slurred aloud as she took determined yet haphazard steps to her side table. "And what a wonderful new year!"

The drawer in her table wouldn't budge, but her depth perception wasn't much to bank on at that point. She finally got it open and grabbed at the pens and scrap paper hidden there before moving to lean her back against the wall and missing entirely. She fell to the floor, her ass hitting the hardwood with a thud, and the momentary shock was enough to dim the pain to her backside and lower back. Her suppressed laugh echoed in the foyer, snickering and wheezing in place of boisterous laughter. She needed another drink, but who the put the bottle so goddamn far away?

Rolling her eyes at fool's incompetency, she brought her knees up and used her thighs as a board against the paper and started to write furiously.

"To the woman who stole my heart," Regina voiced out loud. "Go to hell."

She underlined the words twice, the pen ripping through the page and ink marking her silk pyjama bottoms, but continued on, a snarl forming on her lips with every word.

You left me today. You left me and sent some second-rate soldier whose life is apparently more valuable than your own to tell me that you weren't coming back. You didn't even have the decency to tell me yourself!

"Idiot," she huffed and growled when her flesh was too soft to write on. Her hand moved to the table and grabbed, spilling bills and keys and small toys until her fingers settled on a magazine.

The doctor wants me to write to you, then so be it! A year. It's been a year. No phone call. No note. Not even a fucking telegram. I thought you liked it here. I was waiting for you. Henry was waiting for you. You never showed up because you had to go and be some altruistic idiotic saviour. Why does Neal get to live, and you get the short end of the stick? What, because you're a woman who needs to prove herself? Because he had a family? You have a family! Get that through your thick skull. Why couldn't you just for once think about yourself? After how many times did you promise me you'd be careful and you'd be safe? You had people waiting for you. You can't just come into our lives and claim to love us and then suddenly disappear. That isn't fair, Emma Swan! That's not how this works. You were supposed to come back! You don't get to leave us like this. God, how dare you? I loved you. I love you, doesn't that mean something to you? It hurts. Every single day I wake up and everything reminds me of your stupid face.

"I just have one thing to say to you," she seethed and balled up the paper, throwing it across the hallway along with the pen and magazine. The pen cluttered to the ground, and the magazine whirled before thudding. All the anger and misery Regina felt came out in gasping, breathy sobs as she leaned against her side on the floor and cried.

Regina's body woke her up at 6:00 AM precisely, hangovers be damned. She didn't know when she had wandered over to her couch, but if the remaining fifth of tequila was any indication, she wouldn't be remembering any time soon. Her silk tank top did nothing to shield her from the early morning chill. Goosebumps prickled on her arms as she sat up, straightening the kinks in her back and neck. She was never drinking again.

Grabbing the bottle, she moved toward her office to replace it back in her liquor cabinet then made her way toward the stairs to check in on Henry. He was a fairly heavy sleeper, but God forbid he witnessed anything particularly scarring. Her foot stepped on something prickly yet it yielded to her weight. A pen lay tangled in between the banister and a magazine was open in the middle of the hall. Squinting, Regina moved her foot and found a crumpled up ball and picked it up, her eyes widening as she unravelled it.

Guilt lay like a brick in the pit of her stomach as she read every word, sloppily crafted by her own hand. What was she thinking last night? If Emma had read this—

She quickly darted to her side table, double backing to retrieve the tossed away pen before returning and finding more scrap, quickly scribbling down the words with such a need that even in her sober state the pen leaked through the page.

Emma, I am so sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything I said to you last night. It's not your fault. None of it is your fault. I love you so much. Just please. Please come home.

The next letter Regina wrote was under the careful watch of Dr. Hopper four days later. She was sober and clear-headed, and though it was no sonnet meant to inspire those just like her, it was enough.

January 2 2007

Emma,

Dr. Hopper is watching me write this, so I promise I won't yell at you again. Apparently he doesn't trust me to write these letters on my own anymore. He insists that talking to you, genuine conversation, so to speak, will help. It's a new year, and I promised myself and Henry that I would be better. It's funny. I can already hear your claims that I'm 'awesome', but truth be told, I haven't been.

You were the first person I let into my life in a long time, and I will never forget that. I don't know where you are. I don't know if you're alive or dead. I don't know if I'll ever get to see you again. I don't know a lot of things. I don't like not knowing. That terrifies me. It's still terrifying that you've been gone this long. I've never found myself to be dependent on others, but with you it's different. Somehow you became my best friend, and I'm sure we've said as much, but I regret that I don't get to tell you that again. I wish I could see you one more time. I wish I could kiss you and hold you and watch you play with Henry. He misses you too. I think he may actually miss you more, but that's impossible.

I mentioned Dr. Hopper. He's been helping me deal with my grief. I hate using that word because it implies you're not coming back, and I want so badly to believe that one day I'll open up the door and you'll be standing there on the other side. Deep down inside that hope will never die down, but right now I must be able to function without seeing your ghost everywhere.

I'm supposed to write down a good memory we had together, what made it happy, and why. It's hard to pinpoint one. I don't think I've ever smiled as much as I do when I'm around you and Henry. But remember when we took Henry school supply shopping? You looked so scared asking me if we could go. You were helping Henry to try on new sneakers while I went off to find a few more jeans for him, and I came back and you were kneeling by him as he perched on top of the stool. He kept putting his socked foot in your face, and you would put on a grimace and say he had stinky feet, and you both laughed and did it all over again. It was nice. Perfect.

I've always felt like you were part of our family, but I wish we could have solidified that. I think you might have wanted that too.

Love,

Regina

The weekly letters Regina had scheduled herself to produce were a struggle at first. How many times could she tell Emma she loved her, missed her, wanted her to come home? Not enough actually, and she said as much in her latest. But one morning in February when a dream so vivid left Regina to be particularly wanting, she wrote to Emma, outside of her weekly schedule though she was sure the doctor wouldn't fault her for that as the last tingling sensations of her dream danced across her mind.

I miss your touch, Emma. Whenever we walked, you would put your hand on my back and turn slightly toward me, like you could shield me from any attack or backsplash from any puddle. You were sturdy whenever we sat in the living room next to each other, propping each other up. I'm not much for public affection, but our hands would just join naturally, whether I was pulling you out of the kitchen or you were walking me home from work.

But your kiss, the way your lips turned up in a smile just half a second before they touched mine, it sent butterflies to my stomach. I know I'm not the most approachable woman, even now, but it amazed me that I could make you happy, that you were happy to kiss me.

That letter spurred on more, and her Saturday letters turned into sharing events with the phantom soldier whenever the need fit. Henry had a loose tooth. Regina made lasagna and she'd save her a piece. Regina pressed a single rose bulb into a paper on Valentine's Day. They turned the living room into a fort for a week during Henry's spring break. More importantly, they both missed her so goddamn much.

A box in her home office, hidden on the top shelf of her bookcase between a picture frame of herself and Henry and one of Regina, fifteen years old and breaking out but smiling politely at the camera as she stood between her parents, kept secret the letters she was writing near daily. It was addictive, in a way, to write to Emma, but Regina was careful not to use that term whenever she met with Archie. Lethargic, helpful, those were most appropriate. Because when she wrote, she could pretend that in time, all the letters hidden inside that box on the top shelf would one day be answered. It was crazy, she knew, but it was all she had for now.

April 7 2007

My love,

Henry's turning six soon. Isn't that just amazing and awful? Awesome, even. You're right, it does sound better when you say it. I remember bringing him home for the first time. He was nothing more than six-weeks old and could fit in the crook of my arm, and for a second I thought I made the biggest mistake of my life because who was I to think that I could raise a child. I can't believe I could ever think that because he's the best thing that's ever happened to me.

He's growing up.

He came home last week claiming he had a girlfriend, and I nearly had a heart attack. She's a friend who is a girl and they share his crackers but they don't hold hands because apparently that is yucky.

He asks about you. All the time. Most times I don't know what to tell him. It's more him mentioning your name, saying you like this or you said that. I don't know if he fully grasps what's happening, but I envy his innocence.

I wish you were here. Wherever you are, I love you. Your family loves you.

Regina slid the letter into an envelope, pressing her lips to the flap as she did with every other letter before it, sealing it with her kiss more sturdier than wax. With her address inked into the top left corner and Emma's unit prominently on display in the centre —a habit, of course — she mailed the letter into its home in the box of her top shelf with a heavy sigh.

A knock sounded on her door. Her heart had stopped skipping long ago, wishing for Emma's return, but Regina walked briskly to the door nonetheless since Henry had a habit of announcing her presence even when it was unwanted. Luckily her son was napping in his room, tired from a morning of apple picking, which left Regina free to glance upon her guest, surprised at the intrusion.

August, clean shaven and a boyish smile on his face, stood on her porch carrying an oversized duffel in one hand, a crate in the other, and a stuffed rucksack nestled on his back. She was momentarily stunned by the man she hadn't seen in over a year, but a flash of yellow caught her eye, and she looked past him to see Emma's beetle parked in her driveway. No. It couldn't be. Regina held her breath and stared wide-eyed at the vehicle before moving to August for an explanation.

He had the decency to look apologetic as he motioned his head inside. "Can I come in?"

Wordlessly, Regina stepped back and allowed him over the threshold. He settled his duffle, crate, and bag by the front steps of the foyer before turning to Regina and holding his arms out hopefully.

She glared at him, arms crossed over her chest. Her silence stewed long enough that his arms faltered. Putting him out of his misery, she rolled her eyes and stepped into his embrace, letting his arms wrap around her back. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't miss my favourite nephew's birthday."

"You came back." There was a hesitant hint of amazement in her voice.

He nodded and kissed her forehead before bending over and fiddling with the latch of the crate. "I missed you guys too much."

"The bug?" Regina's voice was tight, though she willed herself to calm down. Breathe, Regina, Dr. Hopper always reminded her. Don't forget to breathe.

"I couldn't leave it there," he muttered. "Maybe Henry can have it when he turns sixteen."

"That monstrosity?" She asked fondly, squinting when suddenly the latch was opened and a familiar black and white cat bounded out of the cage. "Is that—"

"I couldn't leave him there either." Figaro curled around August's legs, and he scooped up the cat and held him up to Regina who looked a mixture of amused and horrified. "I didn't steal him. I bought him off Mrs. Priviterra. He's up to date with his shots and everything."

"What are you doing, August?" Regina asked, helping him lift his rucksack. "Where did you go?"

"Travelling," he explained releasing Figaro and letting him wander the new mansion. "Gathering intel for my new book."

"You're writing a book," the brunette repeated flatly.

He dug through the bag Regina was holding up, and she couldn't help but notice the sleeve of a token red leather jacket peeking out when August recovered some postcards.

They switched, Regina taking the postcards in her hands as she thumbed through each one curiously. The ones he had sent over the last year were different. These ones, well if Regina didn't know any better, the lack of writing and the generic nature of the card made it seem like a token, a check-mark off a to-do list. Thailand. Germany. Syria. Vancouver. Tallahassee. Seemingly random places with no connection or any rhyme or reason. "Did you find what you were looking for on your adventures?"

He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged grimly. "No." She eyed him curiously, and though he was usually so confident to the point of arrogant, he faltered under her steely gaze. "I think Emma's alive."

"August—" Her head tilted to the side in a resigned sigh as she moved up the foyer steps and turned toward the kitchen, but her heart hammered in her ears. Let go, Archie's voice said. But Emma's voice was louder and clearer and yelling out her name.

"Hear me out." He followed her hastily. "I've been talking to people and they haven't found her body yet."

"Yet." She repeated mockingly, sliding the postcards onto the island in between them as she pressed her back against the sink. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes." His gaze was set, his jaw hardened with determination as he pressed his hands against the island counter to lean forward. "If she was lying in a hospital somewhere, or if she was found in a ditch, someone could identify her."

Images of Emma braving a hail of bullets like the superhero Henry believed her to be came to the forefront of her mind, and for the briefest of moments, Regina dared to hope. "She's alive?" She squeaked.

"I think so."

"I need more than your thoughts, August," the brunette demanded. "When—if they find her, you'll be the first to know?"

His face fell as his eyes averted to the marble top. "I hope so."

"You hope so."

"I'm not exactly her flesh and blood. I had to pull in a lot of favours to get her in Boston for that week." August moved around the island determinedly to close Regina in against the corner of the counter. "That's not the point. She's still out there, Regina. You have to believe."

I do. I want to. What could she say? She could hop on a plane and search through hell and high water for herself, but she had a sneaking suspicion August had already done that. And returned with theories and blind faith. Nothing more than what he left with.

"I can't." She whispered quietly and held her hand up to stop him. She rubbed small circles on her forehead to ease the pain between her eyes from the conflicting thoughts barreling through her mind. "I've spent the last year waiting for her to come back to the point where I felt paralyzed, and it's only recently that I've been able to bring some semblance of normalcy back into my life."

"So you're just gonna give up?" He demanded outraged.

"I have to move on." The mantra she told herself every morning fell flat despite how determined she was to meet his bark.

Before August could even think of a rebuttal, a small voice filtered from the entranceway making both adults turn toward the source.

"Uncle August?" Henry sleepily wiped his eye with a closed fist as he stood in the kitchen opening. His hair was tousled and stuck up in strands to the side of his face, Rex held tightly in his other hand as the dinosaur's tail dragged on the ground.

August brightened and kneeled to the ground, his arms open. "Hey, buddy."

Henry ran into his embrace and hugged him tightly around the neck.

"You're so big now." August pulled back and squeezed Henry's arms. "Geez, have you been pumping iron?"

Henry giggled and flexed his muscles just like his uncle had showed him, but then his face dropped and he leaned in to whisper not so subtly. "Emma's an angel now."

August frowned as he stared at the little boy. He glanced up at Regina who refused to meet his eye before turning back toward Henry and pulling him into a hug again. "She always was." He lifted Henry off the ground and plopped him onto the island. "Didn't you know? I lucked out with the cyborg, but she got the wings."

"No," he insisted. "She said she's Sue Storm."

August furrowed his brow in confusion and looked to Regina for back up, though her gaze was still fixated on the counter.

"She can go invisible." Suddenly Henry's eyes brightened as he looked to his mother. "Mommy, Emma's just invisible! She's right here, right?!"

Regina turned her attention back to the pair to smile sadly. A mewl sounded from below their feet giving Regina the out she needed, and suddenly Figaro jumped from the floor to the island, purring and rubbing himself around Henry.

"Fig'ro!" Henry exclaimed, squeezing the cat in a tight hug he only welcomed for a second before darting away.

Regina sighed and stepped toward the island, combing down Henry's unruly hair with her fingers. "Why don't you take Uncle August to the guest room. He'll be staying with us for a while."

Regina wasn't surprised when 'for a while' turned into temporary co-habitation. The presence of Uncle August seemed to brighten Henry's mood since he now had a playmate whenever he got home from school, and for Regina, she was in desperate relief for his distraction. True to form, August had gotten Henry an absurd gift for his birthday: a skateboard. When Regina glared at him, he rolled his eyes and produced the helmet, knee and elbow pads, and wrist guards. Her insistence to save the gift for when Henry became older fell on deaf ears and didn't stop him from taking out his nephew that morning, helping Henry to push himself along the board. August received a thorough reprimand and a few smacks on the arm when Henry kicked off on his own, fell, and split his lip.

It amazed Regina how well August had integrated into Storybrooke life, similar to how easily Emma did as well. There must have been something in the water at their shared foster home to make them so adaptable, but then again the two were quite nomadic and blending in seemed to be their forte.

Much to everyone's surprise, August was more than adept at playing nanny since picking up Henry from school had become his full-time job. He entertained the boy, sometimes bringing him to the diner where Henry would snicker that he and Ruby were boyfriend and girlfriend before meeting Regina at home for dinner. It was routine and familiar, and Regina was grateful for the constant in her life. She could count on August being at the mansion whenever she returned from work, and when he woke up early to use the gym, she knew he'd be returning.

His presence harangued her with loads of questions, mainly from Kat and Tina whenever they managed to get a hold of her. She may have been more at ease, but the thought of another ladies' night with them as they bombarded her with questions of how she was doing? how was Henry? and now, what's August doing there? was just too stressful. For once she didn't have a suitable answer other than "he needed a place to stay."

In exchange, she'd find her fridge stocked with groceries, and some nights August would be in the kitchen, an Italian aria playing from his dock with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder as he stood over the stove. Henry would be sitting at the island, reading his level nineteen book from school (he was quite smug of the fact that he had the highest reading level in his class). The scents in the kitchen ranged from Italian spices, Indian curry, to German schnitzel. Regina had been right in thinking that his wanderings had left him quite a formidable cook, and she was content to hand over the reins to him in the kitchen whenever the need struck him.

It was nice, not having to teach him how to cook or worry that he was going to set the house on fire. Not like Emma. But it was fun teaching her, green eyes lighting up in a job well done or shutting softly when flavours melted in her mouth. Or Emma would just stay in the kitchen and watch Regina flit from stove to fridge to counter, though more times she was off playing with Henry. And by playing, that usually meant they would find a way to get themselves messy, like painting faces on themselves with flour, Regina willing as Emma stood nearly nose to nose with her as she drew on some star around her eye. Swirling green eyes widening in wonder, small puffy breaths in the air around them electrified.

Not a Kiss fan? Not that kind of kiss.

She pushed down the memories, reminding herself they were a thing of the past and she was getting better now, making new memories.

Neither August nor Regina talked about when he would leave, but when she caught him looking at the Real Estate section of the newspaper two months later, her deep-seeded anxiety took control of her in a fiery blaze.

"What the hell is that?" Regina snapped when she detoured away from the stairs and entered the dining room.

"Mommy!" Henry gasped trailing behind her, his hands over his mouth. "That's a swear."

A mixture of frustration and anger crossed her features before she took a breath and bent down to Henry. "I know, sweetie. I'm very sorry. Can you go upstairs and change into your swimming trunks please?"

He nodded eagerly before running off, leaving a fuming Regina and a befuddled August in his wake. The Sergeant looked as if he wanted to follow the six-year old to his room and hide for his crimes he wasn't sure if he actually committed. The man sat at the side of the dining table, his elbows on the table with the paper out in front of him, but his eyebrows were raised in confusion. "What?"

"This," Regina hissed, snatching the paper away only to slam it back down with disdain.

The few circled vacancies stared up at her mockingly though it only made August scratch his head.

"A newspaper?"

She rolled her eyes. "I can see that, Mr. Booth."

"Mr. Booth—?" he began baffled. "What the—"

"Were you planning on telling me that you were moving out?"

"Jesus, Regina," August huffed, straightening out the paper, "I haven't even found a place yet."

"You promised Henry to teach him how to play soccer, and who's going to pick him up when he starts school again?"

Scrunching up his face, August stood, holding up a hand to collect his thoughts. "Who did it before I was here?"

"That's not the point!"

"I can still do all those things even if I live across town—are you really fighting me about this? Did you think I was going to move into your guest bedroom forever?"

"Well, I had no idea what to expect until you showed up on my porch!"

"I appreciate you taking me in, and I love you and the kid, but I need my own space."

"Fine." She grabbed the newspaper and thrust it at his chest. "Go. That's what you're good at."

"Wha—Regina?!" He walked after her when she stormed out of the living room, but he didn't get far when she slammed her office door shut and barricaded herself in there.

"Regina?" Archie crossed his legs as he sat back in his office chair. "How has this week been?"

"August is planning on leaving," she stated factually, though the twitch in her hand said otherwise.

"Where does he plan to go?"

"He's looking to rent his own place."

"That's great news," Archie praised.

"Great?" She drawled dryly. "Once again, the balance of my household is disrupted."

Archie squinted and leaned forward in his seat, planting both feet on the ground. "How so?"

"Everything was going well. I was adjusting. Henry was adjusting. I even enrolled him in horseback riding again," she explained moving her hand with every addition to the list. "Now he's going to lose Uncle August too."

"Regina," Archie said carefully. "August isn't going anywhere."

"He's leaving."

"He's moving out," the therapist clarified. With a sigh, he leaned back into the chair. "I actually think this might be good for you. With August out of the house, you'll be granted more space."

"I just told you I was in a better place, yet you want me to return to where I was? Waiting for—" She scoffed and smacked the cushion beside her with a palm. Pongo raised his head at the noise and sneezed. "I'm fine."

"You're holding onto Emma," Archie stated simply. "You cannot use August as a means to have her back."

"If you're insinuating there is any inkling of a romantic relationship going on between myself and Mr. Booth—"

"I'm not," Archie quickly reassured. "I doubt your heart would allow you that just yet. But you said he and Emma are foster siblings. There's evidently a piece of Emma within him that you're keeping close that finds comfort in the fact that he's physically there. He's not leaving, Regina. He's establishing roots in our town. You said yourself that he's got himself a job with Marco. Do you think that those are signs of his abandonment?"

"I don't understand his need for space,"she replied haughtily, ignoring his question entirely. "I have more than enough rooms to accommodate."

"He's an adult and very capable of making his own decisions."

"So was—" she stopped herself and focused on a piece of loose string stemming the stitching of the cushions. The doctor really needed new furniture.

"Regina." She looked up at his soft voice and frowned. "You've made progress, but at the same time, there's a part of you that's holding yourself back from ever fully healing."

"I'm doing everything you tell me," she sighed exasperated.

"And I'm proud of you." He leaned forward in his chair to place a palm on her knee before lowering his voice as if his words were some hidden secret. "You can say her name."

Her eyes flashed and she sat back, her breathing increasing just a second faster than average. "I do."

"Do you?" He asked. "With Henry or August? The few letters you've shared with me, I know you have no problem thinking it. In the seven months you've been coming here, you've only said her name twice. How come?"

"I can say her name." With a deep breath and heavy concentration, she spoke. "Emma." She tilted her head in minor victory.

"How was that?"

"Forced," she answered through gritted teeth.

"In more than one way?" He asked knowingly.

At Regina's pointed glare, he moved on.

"How about your friends?" Archie questioned. "Kathryn, Ruby, Tina—has your relationship with them improved since that day you admitted Emma's disappearance?"

"We speak." When Archie was silent, Regina subconsciously tugged on her necklace, her thumb circling the pendant. "I don't understand why I need to expand my social circle right away when I'm perfectly content with my life right now."

"Your social circle is your support system," he explained, though Regina internally rolled her eyes. How many times had the doctor told her that? "From my standpoint, the only thing that has changed in your life is Mr. Booth's presence, and I'm not saying that's bad. Not at all. You've still mentioned that it's difficult for you to enjoy time out with your friends, that you worry whenever Henry is out of your sight, can barely talk to him whenever he brings Emma up, and now you're scared August is going to leave you. What do you think that tells you?"

"Trust and abandonment problems?" she guessed with haughty distaste. "Unless of course you're referring to parental problems and hints of OCD."

"The former, most definitely, though we can re-visit the latter," he chuckled hoping to ease the scowl on Regina's face then cleared his throat when it only worsened. "But I think the superficial problem is that while you're happier in your home with August, you need to remember that he's not Emma."

"I know he's not," she nearly growled. "I am very much aware of the fact that although he may act as childish as his sister, he is not her. Is it a crime that I find a person whom I can stand to be around for more than a few hours at a time and be disappointed if they go?"

"Of course not," he said softly. "But the same thing is happening to you as it did when you lost your parents."

She inhaled sharply and held his stare.

"So yes, we will be dealing with your parental problems, but right now, you're closing in on yourself, keeping everyone at bay. However, this time, you have Henry and August in there with you." She let out a low breath from her nose as he continued. "I ask again, have you been talking to Henry about her?"

She lowered her voice. "He asks about her all the time."

"But do you bring Emma up?" At Regina's silence he continued. "It's easier, especially with someone linked as closely to Emma as August is, to lose yourself in a familiar distraction. One never really wants to give in to grief."

She shut her eyes. "Must you call it that?"

He looked surprise. "Is there another word you find more appropriate?"

"Just—not that."

Archie nodded and made a note in his book.

She shut her eyes and leaned back against the couch. "This is taking too long."

"There's no deadline for you to meet," he reminded her. "There's no contract or requirements. It takes time."

Time, she laughed bitterly to herself. It was always about that, wasn't it? The wrong time, the right time,making the time right, waiting for time to pass yet wanting it to slow down. She sat up with a tired sigh, flipping her bangs out of her eyes. "What else can I do?"

Regina hated when other people were right, but as soon as Dr. Hopper explained to her how deflecting was in the same family as denial, she braced herself one afternoon when August had taken Henry to the park and opened her closet to pull out the hidden bag of Emma's belongings.

She kneeled by the floor, and with shaky hands, pulled the string of the bag and released the pictures it held. Her fingers skimmed over the glossy print of the photograph. It was creased at the edges and folded in corners from overuse. Her and Emma sitting in her living room as the blonde held the camera above them to snap the shot after Regina noticed they hadn't had a picture together.

Let's fix that.

Regina's heart clenched as she sat back on her knees and brought the picture closer to her. She shuddered. The last time she had seen Emma, the blonde was sitting in front of a camera, greeting Henry happy birthday and saying so much with her eyes that her mouth wasn't allowed to voice.

Twenty-seven months ago.

The tears that sprang to her eyes couldn't be controlled as she pressed her free hand to her mouth to reign in her gasps at the reality of the situation. Twenty-seven months and she was gaining the courage to look upon Emma's face only now. Guilt plagued her being as a tear landed right on Emma's smile. She nearly forgot the way green eyes crinkled at the corners whenever she was laughing or happy. The fact that they were nearly always like that whenever they were together made her heart ache.

Why did she wait so long to look at her? To see Emma. How awful was she that she was mad and angry and hurt that Emma hadn't come home, but she couldn't even bear to look at a picture of her? She choked on the sob that made its way up her throat.

She wasn't over it. She wasn't letting go. She was holding on tightly with a visceral grip, and she was happy to burden herself with the pain if it meant she'd have Emma, in any way she could.

But she couldn't live like that. Not again. Her parents' deaths had left her cold, and Emma's, well she was either living in a delusion or denial and neither worked out in her favour.

Catching her breath, she turned the photo over to see Emma's handwriting. The blue ink smudged at places on the back, but the date and the note were still legible: May 2004 Me and Regina #1.

One? Regina questioned the number on the back and held her breath when she realized the significance. They never got to take a second picture together. Or a third. Or a fourth. Or fill that scrapbook Regina was planning on giving to her as a gift that was now stashed in the closet with the rest of her things that too closely resembled Emma. The only evidence of their relationship was a wrinkled photograph taken over three years ago. Her chest started to heave and she clutched at it with an open palm. Three years? This was three years old?

Her breathy shudder filled the quiet room as she dropped the picture and moved to the next one. Her, Henry, and Emma at his third birthday party. The Queen, the Prince, and the Knight hanging tightly off one another in their foil armour and paper hats.

Anxiety overwhelmed her, and Regina forcibly shoved the pictures back into the bag, picking herself up off the floor and holding herself around the middle. She was still alone. August and Henry were still out of the house leaving Regina with nothing but the ghost of the blonde soldier.

Habit led her to her study where she contemplated her liquor cabinet before bypassing it entirely and pulled out a piece of stationary, jotting down the words that always calmed her fluttering heart.

Dear Emma. . .


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Disclaimer in Chapter One

Chapter 22 was updated as well so be sure to read that before this one!

Regina, no matter how difficult it was at first, continued to make a habit out of breaking out Emma's belongings. More often than not she would write to Emma afterwards, recalling memories they shared together. She never poured them all out at once, partially because she could never get past that first picture or that first letter or let go of the worn red leather gripped between her fingers, but also because she just couldn't do it. Whatever notion she had in her mind that having everything Emma possessed out in the open would finalize the young woman's disappearance cut a hole in her heart.

Archie was impressed by the initiative she took. Most times she even brought along a picture with her to their session where Archie got her to remember the happier times. A month later, she even confronted August about her outburst, apologizing and even volunteering to help him find a suitable location to live. The man had put a halt on his moving process, but their talk had brought some clarity to the situation. By September when he cautiously approached her about a loft above Marco's wood shop, she was able to nod and offer to see the place with him. He and Figaro were officially moved out two weeks later, and Regina was okay with that.

Her mood fluctuated most times. Some nights she would wake up in a cold sweat thinking she heard the late night ringing of a phone or feel the promising warmth of another body, momentarily forgetting there was no one willing to call her at this hour or that Emma hadn't shared her bed in years. Some days she was able to entertain a phone call from any of her friends, and though Kathryn persisted on inviting her out, the nerves of being made vulnerable made itself known and she would declined.

But there was the odd night, sometimes random but this particular night held such significance, where Regina would run to the bag in her closet and grab a handful of letters Emma had written to her or watch the video message she had sent for hours on end.

This night, however, was an average Wednesday night for anyone else in Storybrooke. Sheriff Graham was out patrolling the streets in his cruiser during the overnight shift. Mrs. Ginger's cat was out pawing through the neighbour's bushes. Henry was sound asleep in his bed, his Sheriff Woody costume he refused to take off in preparation for Halloween used as pyjamas.

And Regina, on this quiet October night, was sitting in the dark of her living room. For the first time in two years, possibly even longer given how much the soldier travelled, every item that Emma possessed with her was strewn about the coffee table. Pictures were scattered in a makeshift mosaic. The video tape August had sent to Emma lay on the throw pillow beside her. Letters from both women littered the couch and table. Henry's drawings were displayed in a stack so high they were precariously teetering off the edge. The scrapbook lay open next to Regina's untouched glass of wine, empty pages that were meant to be filled staring blankly up at the ceiling.

The only light in the room came from Regina's laptop nestled across her stomach as she lay back against the arm of the couch, revelling in her young lover's voice.

"I love you all. And I think about you guys all the time. Take care of each other."

She hit the play button again as Emma grinned at the camera.

"Hey! Happy birthday, Henry. I'm sorry I couldn't be there, but I bet your mom made it super awesome."

Her eyes shut slowly, imagining Emma to be right next to her, the warmth from the laptop heating her belly and Emma's voice over the speaker whispering in her ear as if the blonde was nestled on top of her.

"I really miss you guys. You, and Uncle August, and your mom. Regina."

She'd never grow tired of hearing her name slip from Emma's lips, either hollering for her from a different room of the house or simply saying her name just to get her to look. Regina. Regina.

The video ended, and the brunette let her eyes open to stare at the fuzzy image of the blonde soldier permanently still on screen. The time on her computer told her Emma's birthday had come and gone, but Regina stayed lying there in the darkness. It was Emma's 24th today, well, yesterday. She was so young. Regina never failed to bring that up simply because she couldn't believe it herself. She continuously forgot because Emma had matured so much for her age. Insight and experience would do that to her.

As she sat up, the letters on the couch shifted under her weight, and just as she moved to replace the computer onto an empty space of the coffee table, her house phone rang.

Only one person ever called her after ten, but the emotional exhaustion she felt overwhelmed her enough not to dive too deeply into it. She grabbed the cordless off the side table, immediately understanding once she saw the caller ID.

"Can't sleep?" She answered in greeting.

"I usually can't on this day," August admitted.

"Me too."

They settled into a comfortable silence, the whirring of the laptop's motor perforating the night on Regina's end while the soft mewling of Figaro sounded from August's. "Ruby and I broke up."

She crinkled her eyebrows and reached for her drink. "When was this?"

"Last month," he supplied.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It was mutual. But you should really talk to your friends more often, don't you girls fawn over this stuff?"

"I talk to them enough."

"I doubt that." Another silence settled before August broke in with a quiet voice. "You know, Emma was convinced she could get through her service as a lone wolf, and she might have, but she wouldn't have been as happy."

"She was always so stubborn."

"In the best ways."

Regina nodded her agreement, fiddling with the stem of her wine glass.

"You kept her alive all those years."

Regina scoffed. "She's not alive now, is she?"

"You don't know that."

"And you do?" She took a moment to gather the letters in her lap, placing her glass down when it threatened to spill, and laid them on the table. Her elbows on her knees, she fixated on the pictures scattered about and she shook her head. "Please, August. We can't keep having this conversation."

"Archie says it's fine to hope as long as it doesn't hold us back."

"You're seeing the doctor?" Regina inquired surprise.

"Wise man," he provided with a shrug. "You know there are help groups for army wives who have spouses overseas."

She scoffed again and grabbed the glass, finally sipping it. "And what? Listen to their sob stories about their husbands while I'm there for my girlfriend, and then they can discredit all that she's done as a soldier?"

August chuckled softly, almost knowingly. Figaro purred loudly against the mouth piece. No doubt the cat was resting on his chest, and August was stroking him thoughtfully. "You still think of her as that."

It was fact, simple as that. She opened her mouth to refute it but found she didn't want to deny the claim. "She's—Emma—it's not like we ended things."

God, she was holding on, Regina groaned to herself as she gulped the rest of her wine and slammed the glass onto the table. Not for the first time she wished she could just turn off a switch to her feelings if that could make her head stop spinning for just a moment.

"What about you?" She croaked.

"She's still my sister," he answered obviously. "I may not have been able to protect her from everything and that's okay."

"My, my, you have been going to the shrink," she said with a wry smirk. She refilled her glass and swirled the liquid around as she mused to herself. "Do you go?" She asked quietly. "To these group meetings?"

"Once."

"And you expect me to go?" She chortled.

"It's a different process for everyone, Regina. You never know. You might meet someone there who actually gets you."

For once Regina didn't argue a suggestion since her biggest problem remained to be Henry. Many times she would check in on her son who would be lying on the floor of his room or playing board games with August (who despite having his own place continued to show up for dinners and on weekends) in his playroom, and she would hear the older man share stories about his younger sister.

"Emma always cheated at snakes and ladders," August had informed him. "She said she was too cool for board games, but whenever we'd play, she would climb up the snakes saying she was a snake charmer."

Henry would laugh and try to shimmy his token up a snake, but good old Uncle August was much too competitive to be bested by a six year old.

August clearly took to heart the steps that speaking about Emma would only help him. But with Henry, Regina couldn't find it in her except to evade the topic whenever Henry talked about Emma. He was young, his memory of her might not hold. But that thought alone sent shivers down her spine. She didn't want to be the cause of actively trying to make Henry forget Emma simply because Regina didn't like the idea of Henry losing a loved one. But there that was. The soldier had become a key figure in his life, even through their initial letter exchange. Emma had been just as excited as she when Henry took his first steps, when he said his first words, when he used the big boy potty (and sometimes fell in) all by himself. She was frantic when he was sick and terrified that he had gotten lost.

And now Regina couldn't even talk to him about her anymore for fear that his young heart wouldn't be able to grasp the concept of death. But at the core of her being, she knew it wasn't him she was scared for. Regina admitted that to herself now more than ever since she noticed Henry's musings about Emma became fewer and further between. She'd catch whispers when he spoke about her to Uncle August, but around Regina, Henry found less and less reasons to bring her up. It was both a blessing and a curse that her son was insightful enough to realize the mention of the blonde made her tense, but she couldn't put that emotional burden on her child.

So by the beginning of November, Regina dawdled outside the auditorium door of Storybrooke High for a bereavement support group. She already knew how much harassment Emma received from her General for their relationship. She didn't want to add insult to injury and taint the image of the decorated soldier by going to the 'army wives' group August had mentioned. Though how their relationship was harmful or anyone's business was beyond Regina, and it continued to set a fire in her eyes. The female bisexual soldier gave her all to serve her country, yet they couldn't be bothered to find her?

She tensed. Then breathed. Inside she could hear faint murmuring and the scraping of metal against hardwood, making her insides churn.

She hadn't been here since graduation, and even then the momentous occasion was overshadowed with the fact that no one was there to take her picture, shower her with flowers, or brag to their friends about how proud they were of her daughter. Her valedictorian speech was flat and distant, eloquently worded with all the right pauses and token memories, but her eyes were clouded as she stared out into the crowd where none of the faces staring back at her were familiar enough to call her own.

Her heart hammered in her chest. She couldn't do this. She wasn't grieving, Emma wasn't d—just not here right now. As soon as she turned around, a soft aged voice called to her from the doorway. "Mayor Mills."

Her back was rigid, and she thought if she stayed still perhaps the intruder would leave her alone, but against her better judgment, she straightened her coat, flipped her hair, and turned slowly. "Mr. Borelli."

"Please, here you may call me Marco. Are you coming inside?" She hesitated at the older man whose accented voice reminded her of Daddy and how patient and kind he had been. He noticed her falter and smiled. "Perhaps another time?"

She shook her head and took a step forward. "I suppose I can make time right now."

He smiled widely and held the door open for her before closing it behind them. Together they walked silently down the auditorium steps toward the stage where a circle of metal chairs were stationed in the middle, seats already occupied by who Regina believed to be regulars, though she didn't focus on their faces. Instead, the pattern of carpeted stairs that had always been a strange burgundy despite the fact that their school colours were black and red. She almost laughed at the ripped carpet that tore away from the edge of a middle step that had been there for as long as she could remember. Kathryn had met David tripping over the fabric. Her friend should have taken that fall as a sign for imminent doom.

The faint smell of coffee wafted in the air as they approached the stage, and when Regina looked up at Marco's proffered hand to help her up the steps, she could see the refreshment table placed just off to stage left. The urge to duck her head when the group watched her ascend was strong, but refusing to show weakness had been so deeply ingrained in her that she held her chin up and took the first vacant seat in front of her.

The group was small, only four in attendance and headed by Marco, who had taken a seat opposite Regina, his chair pushed outward just a little bit so he could better see the group. Two empty seats over to her right was a blonde man Regina had only seen in passing, both at Henry's daycare and when her mayoral duties had called her out to the forest where the lumberjack would demonstrate and explain how they were repopulating Storybrooke's forest after chopping down the trees for trade.

Three seats over to her left was a man whose head was cupped in his hands, his palms trembling in his dark brown hair. He sat up, and Regina frowned when she recognized him as Jefferson Hatter, little Paige's father. Henry's class had sent home a note notifying parents of Alice Hatter's death from a car accident. Regina had sent flowers as condolences but couldn't quite bring herself to ship the lasagna she had made over when she imagined the blonde woman in her casket.

The only other woman in attendance sat next to Marco, a dark-skinned woman a few years older than Regina herself, her face impassive as she stared straight ahead. Regina wasn't familiar with her or her story, but judging by the night ahead of her, she would soon find out.

"Thank you for coming tonight," Marco began. "The new faces here bring a smile to my face, not for your loss, but for your strength."

Regina flinched and cast her eyes downward.

"It's never easy, losing a loved one, and sometimes the journey requires more help than we're used to asking. But that's why we're here. For the sake of our newcomers, I'll start today off." Marco leaned back, recalling Maria, his wife he had lost to Alzheimer's twenty-five years ago. He was sterile, and she loved him. She forgot him, and he loved her. But not a day went by that he didn't miss her, think of her, pray for her.

Regina was familiar with the old man's tale, but as soon as the floor opened up to more speakers, she suddenly felt her palms sweat and avoided everyone's gaze like a student who hadn't done the homework assignment.

Jefferson was the next to go. Regina was vaguely familiar with the fact that he had been court-ordered to attend therapy sessions after he was found overdosed in his home. Paige was in the care of close neighbours, and Jefferson was still picking up the pieces of his life. He spoke briefly, saying how he was slowly making peace with the loss, but Regina had a feeling he was attempting to speed up his recovery in order to get custody of his daughter back.

Thankfully the lumberjack, Robin, he introduced himself as, began to speak as he leaned his elbows onto his knees. "I know I usually come back around this time. Marian's anniversary was two months ago. My wife, she's been gone for nearly four years now. It's just me and my boy. She died three days after his birth. Complications with the delivery. Roland never got to properly meet his mother. Sometimes we look at pictures together, but his face doesn't show quite the same recognition as it does with other people. He knows it's her though. Every year that's passed, I promise myself that this year I'll be able to spend her anniversary at home with Roland, remembering her, but the days leading up to it feel as if there's a brick settled on my chest. It's not fair to Roland since his birthday is right next to it, but we're doing our best."

Regina glanced up to meet his eye, knowing all too well the emotions the man was going through. He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it further before continuing.

"Roland started school this year. I almost didn't get out of bed on that first day because I knew Marian was supposed to be by our side, snapping all the pictures and embarrassing him. Roland breezed right through it, and he came home ecstatic, showing me all the drawings he did and pointing out new friends and teachers while we're out."

"What about you?" Marco interrupted. "How are you handling going through milestones with your son without Marian by your side?"

"I feel like I'm cheating her memory, to be honest," Robin explained.

"Why do you feel that way?"

"Because how can you be happy when your loved one is dead." Regina hadn't realized she spoke until four pairs of eyes were on her.

Marco smiled encouragingly at her and nodded his approval. "Regina, would you like to share now?"

Usually the brunette would scold anyone who didn't use her honorific, but here, she knew she couldn't hide beneath the mask of Storybrooke's Mayor. No power was held here, and she couldn't bark at anyone to get her out of share time. These people, they were, for lack of a better word, grievers like her.

"You don't have to," Marco quickly reassured. "Sometimes it helps the soul to just listen."

She shook her head and sat up straight, folding her arms over her midsection. "I suppose I can contribute."

Public speaking had been her forte since she was a child. Her twisting words charmed her teachers and seduced her classmates and made her adversaries fall weak. But her arsenal was failing her as the four members watched on carefully. With a shaky breath, she directed her speech to Marco who waited patiently.

"I assume there are no introductions needed," she began with the last strain of superiority she could muster before rolling her eyes at the older man's pointed gaze and conceding. "My name is Regina, and I lost my girlfriend almost two years ago." Her hand darted to the circle necklace dangling there as she rubbed the pendant with her thumb in slow methodic circles. "Emma. Her name was Emma."

"Emma." Marco smiled fondly and encouraged with outstretched hands. "Tell us about her."

"Her smile," Regina began, casting her eyes down to her lap where her free hand fumbled with the hem of her blazer, "it lit up the room. It's funny, she had every excuse in the world to be miserable and to be pessimistic — to be like me — but for some reason, she wasn't. At least, she didn't show it as heavily. She was guarded, yes, but I guess we both found solace in speaking with a stranger.

"She's—she was—I guess, is— in military. We met through correspondence six years ago, and for years I was never able to put a face to the name I was writing to, and then she came waltzing into town in some horrendous ancient vehicle as yellow as her hair, and everything changed."

"She died in service?" Jefferson spoke up with his chin nestled on closed fists.

Marco scolded him admonishingly. "Jefferson, remember our sensitive language."

He rolled his eyes but looked at Regina for an answer.

She opened her mouth to say that she was just missing, she had basically been conned in attending this meeting as well, that most days she was fine. But she wasn't fine. Emma haunted her dreams and filled her subconscious no matter how hard she tried to distract herself. "She went missing," Regina continued in a soft tone. "She's been missing for two years. It's easy for me to tell other people that she's dead, but whenever I think it myself, I just find myself holding tighter. Only recently have I been able to accept the worse. Emma—" She cleared her throat and sniffed back the pressure behind her eyes. "Emma won't be coming back."

Weeks passed where Regina continued going to the support meetings along with seeing Dr. Hopper. He was proud of her, slowly but surely coming out of the cocoon she wrapped around herself, Henry, and August. November came and went, leading into December, and though the end of the month brought some emotional days for the Mayor, she reminded herself that Emma wouldn't want her to ruin the holidays with a tainted memory.

Regina had even felt a bit of gratitude toward the lumberjack. Robin proved a formidable help just by listening to his tale. The widower was left with a newborn after the death of his wife, and he and Roland had been doing exceptionally over the last few years. She'd nod his way whenever they crossed paths at the childrens' school, and most times after the meetings, Regina swallowed her pride and asked how he spoke with his son about his mother.

Carefully. As simply as possible. Let him know that although you're sad, he can be sad too. Most importantly, love him for the both of you.

Regina had yet to truly acknowledge Emma to Henry just yet. Every time she tried, his betrayed sobbing eyes haunted her, and all she could see was herself screaming at her son. But baby steps were the way to go, and after so many crawls, she could see how far she had come.

Her biggest leap forward happened in March when she had called August asking him to babysit and found herself outside Ruby Lucas' room above the B&B. She didn't know what was driving her out of the house this Friday night, but she knew that despite her clammy hands and peace offering of Chardonnay that she was ready to do this.

Red barked loudly as soon as Regina knocked tentatively on the door, and from within she could hear Tina's voice call out. "Pizza's here!"

The first thing she noticed was Red escaping at the first crack of the open door and barking happily up at Regina, running in circles before nudging her hand with her nose. The second, third, and fourth thing she noticed were the shocked faces of her friends. Tina stared wide eyed, partially hidden behind the door. Behind her, Regina could see Ruby lying across her bed, the magazine she was reading open and forgotten, and Kathryn, perched on the love seat in front of the television looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Hello," Regina greeted awkwardly, her hand finding the top of the husky's head and scratching behind her ear.

"Delivering pizza wouldn't happen to be your evening job, would it now?" Tina joked after recovering quickly and opened the door wider.

"Last I checked I was still the mayor."

Kathryn stood up from the couch and met Regina at the doorway, engulfing her friend in a tight hug. "We missed you."

"I missed you too," the Mayor admitted, allowing Tina to take her coat.

She held up the bottle to Ruby who grinned and accepted it graciously. "What's the occasion?" The waitress asked, clicking her tongue to get Red to calm down.

"Ladies night," Regina supplied easily as she took a seat next to Kathryn on the sofa.

"It's good to have you back." Tina smiled and handed her a drink just as Red barked again from another knock on the door. "Now that one I'm certain is pizza."

It wasn't until the following month where Henry, now seven years old and growing up much too quickly, had Paige over for a play date. The little girl was polite when Mr. Siciliano, her temporary guardian, dropped her off at the mansion, and the two children raced off to the living room and immediately popped in a movie and pulled out some games.

Habit had Regina checking in on the kids nearly every fifteen minutes, and when she didn't immediately find them in the living room when she was bringing in veggies and dip for a snack an hour later, her overprotective motherly heart sped up when she found a flurry of construction paper and markers littering the floor instead. She set off quickly to find them. Four steps down the hall, she heard rummaging in her office, determining the kids to be in there, she hovered just outside the partially open door.

"My mom keeps scissors in here," Henry stated, pulling out a drawer. "She showed me how to make paper people."

Paige helped, moving to the other side of the desk to pull out the drawers there before she stopped. "Who's this?"

Regina peeked through the crack of the door to see Paige holding up a picture of Emma, a headshot of the blonde in her formal wear with the barest hint of a smile on her face. It was the one picture Regina kept with her, the others hidden away in her room, because she was coming to accept that behind the woman she loved was the soldier who gave everything for her country. She respected that, revered it, but couldn't display it just yet. The Emma in the photograph was young, barely twenty and face wrinkle-free from the stress of the job.

Henry glanced over and squinted, holding out his hand to take the picture from his friend and stared at it for long moments. His silence gutted Regina in the pit of her stomach as a horrible through flittered through her head. What if she made Henry forget? How could she do that to him? To Emma?

"That's Emma," Henry whispered, making Regina strain to see more through the crack. "I haven't seen her in a long time."

"Who is she?"

"Uncle August's sister." Regina shut her eyes. Henry was a baby, he wouldn't be able to remember.

"I haven't seen her around."

The boy nodded. "She died. That's what my mom said. She doesn't like to talk about it."

"My mom died too," Paige said softly. "That's why I stay with Jimmy and Mel."

"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically.

Paige smiled tightly, no doubt having heard that enough times for it to mean little. "How come your mom has the picture? Was she your aunt?"

Henry shrugged and stroked his fingers over the photograph, his eyebrows knitted in memory. "She used to work a lot. We would only see her sometimes, but when she came home, we had the best times." His voice lightened in a soft chuckle. "We used to watch Treasure Planet together all the time, and she bought me my first backpack."

"She sounds fun."

"She was. She'd tuck me in at night, and we would play soldier, and we would call each other and she would tell me stories. Sometimes she and my mom would sing this song to me at night. Emma wasn't very good at it, but Mom helped her through it."

Paige nodded in understanding. "My mom used to let me do her make-up when I was younger, and she'd even leave the house with it."

Regina sniffled, a single tear dropping into the assortment of carrots and broccoli she had on the tray. Her heart swelled in a mixture of bliss and regret. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't pretend Emma was her best kept secret and if the world didn't know of her then she could still come back. Henry, god, Henry was affected by her just as much as she, and where was Regina for him in all that time? Wallowing in her own self-pity.

The drawer slid shut and Henry produced a pair of scissors. "Found it."

Regina made herself known, stepping into the room with a watery smile. "I made snacks in case you're hungry." Her lips twitched at the assortment of veggies on the tray. Are those carrots and broccoli? They're three. "But if you eat enough of these, I was thinking we can make some cookies."

"Yeah!" The children cheered, dropping the scissors onto the desk and darting past her for the kitchen.

Regina stepped into the room, deposited the tray onto her desk, and moved around to the drawer. With careful fingers, she pulled it open and was met with the tiniest hint of a smile on Emma's face. She smiled and pressed her lips to Emma's before leaving the photograph upright against her desk lamp.

"Henry." Regina entered his room that night after dinner once Paige was picked up. Her arms were laden with the box full of Emma's belongings.

He looked up from his spot on the bed, his wet hair combed back after his shower and a comic book laid out before him as he read. He had stopped fighting bath time long ago and had moved on to taking showers like a big boy. He still used superhero bath wash and liked to keep his stuffed animals close, but she couldn't believe the child before her was her baby boy who would only continue to grow bigger and bigger.

"Hi Mom." That was another thing that struck her. Only on weekends when they were alone together or when he was exceptionally cuddly or sick did he call her Mommy. He was much too cool for his friends to hear him speak like a baby.

She sat on the edge of his bed, the box in her lap, struggling to remember the advice Robin, and Archie, and even her friends had given her.

"Hi sweetie." She tucked a loose strand of his hair back behind his ear and smiled softly. "I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

Inhaling deeply, she decided the best tactic would be just to dive head first, so she pulled out a picture from the box, one she came to regularly and handed it to Henry. "Emma."

Henry took it and studied their first family picture from when he was three. He squinted and blushed at the photograph. "Is that me? Why am I so fat?"

Regina laughed out loud and settled comfortably on his bed. "Just your cheeks. You had a habit of sneaking sweets whenever anyone's back was turned."

"What about . . ." He trailed off and darted his eyes back to the picture.

"Emma," she filled in for him, rolling the name on her tongue with right familiarity. "Emma."

"I know she makes you sad," he mumbled, averting eye contact. "I don't want you to be sad."

Regina sighed and hugged Henry to her, kissing the top of his head. "I know, my little prince. I didn't mean for you to pick up on that, but I just miss her so much."

"Me too," Henry admitted, peeking into the box.

"I'm sorry, baby." Regina hugged him tighter, pressing his head to her chest. "You don't have to be scared to talk about her anymore because of me, okay?"

He pulled back looking unsure, so Regina placed the box between them and began pulling out items one by one.

"Did I ever tell you how we met?"

Henry shook his head and guessed. "High school sweethearts?"

She chuckled. "Where'd you learn that term?"

"Auntie Ruby."

"Of course," Regina drawled.

"I thought you always knew Emma."

She pulled out the very first letter she had ever written to Emma and handed it to her son by way of answer. "You were six-months old when Mr. Glass from the newspaper approached me and asked if I wanted to be part of a morale building project to send letters to the troops. . ."

It was a start. Slowly but surely Regina and Henry made it a habit of combing through their memory box together. Regina was careful to remove the letters indicating Henry's adoption because that was one battle she wasn't quite ready for. He grinned at all his drawings and childishly gagged at the borderline love notes his mother and Emma sent to one another once they began seeing each other. She showed him the scrapbook, and Henry got the bright idea to keep filling it. A part of Regina felt the drowning feeling of anxiety overwhelm her with that notion, but she couldn't quell his excitement. He filled in the gaps from the year Regina left off at with any pictures he could spare and added anecdotes to the margins. The pictures kept hidden in the box were free, either pasted into the scrapbook or safely kept in a photo album on the living room table.

What initially frightened her had Regina writing letters more frequently in the same fashion as Henry scrapbooked: speaking to Emma, telling her what they've been up to, but knowing in her heart and in her head that it was all she could expect. Archie commended her, and when she shared her stories with her support group every Wednesday evening, they applauded the slow development.

July 4 2008

Emma,

We've all decided to go away for the long weekend. When I say 'we' it means it was supposed to be Henry and I, but then August overheard, and Kathryn is stressed out from the divorce, so naturally Tina and Ruby have joined. We're going to Augusta where August has insisted we learn how to fish, though I hope he knows he's getting nowhere on that one. Henry's excited though. You can see him in the picture already geared up with his tackle box and pole. August said you would have been terrible at fishing, and I must admit, I'd have to agree.

I wish you were coming with us.

July 25 2008

Emma,

I might have taken a few steps backwards, but Dr. Hopper validated my reaction to an extent. Robin, this man in my support group who has a son with dimples deeper than Henry's, asked me to dinner. I yelled at him in the middle of the street and told him to stay away from me. Dr. Hopper says it's okay not to feel ready to pursue romantic relationships just yet, but quite honestly, I don't think I'll ever be. And I'm okay with that. I gave you my heart, and I'd like you to keep it.

I love you.

September 1 2008

Hi Emma!

I start school tomorrow. The 2nd grade! I'm in Paige and Nicholas' class. We're in Mr. Guerrero's. Ava said he's mean. I'm going to bring an apple tomorrow for him.

I wish you got to be with us this summer. Mom and me went to New York. She said we went there when I was a baby, but I don't remember it, so we're gonna start making a tradition. We also planted my own cherry tree in our backyard! It's still a baby, but me and Mom are taking good care of it.

I miss you and I love you lots. Rex and the family say hi too.

Love,

Henry

November 3 2008

Emma,

Look what Henry and Uncle August decided to match as for Halloween. It was bittersweet seeing Henry in that army costume again, but I don't think I ever got to see Sergeant Booth until last Friday. He said he wanted to go as you. I teased him and asked if it was because you were scary, and of course your brother had to be smart and say if he wanted to be scary he would have dressed as me. He's lucky I love you.

I know you've been watching watching over us.

I'll see you again one day, my love.

A week later when a majority of the town gathered around the common square for Veterans Day, Regina and Henry laid down flowers at the base of the Founder's statue. Henry placed down a bouquet of yellow lilies. 'They're like Emma's hair,' he had claimed. And Regina had whispered a promise into a single red rose before laying it down beside his bouquet. The sound of rifles firing eleven times weren't louder than the contagious laughter and soft murmurings of Emma's voice in her head.

Regina didn't drink on the three-year anniversary, though she was sorely tempted to. Archie praised her, but she wasn't in the mood to be encouraged like a child.

In January, vowing to start the new year right, Regina and Henry spent the second half of his Christmas break painting nearly every room in the house. Gone were the monochromatic walls that made the pristine mansion look like a model home. In its place were Marigold Yellow hallways, a Salem Red living room, and a Tavern Green playroom. The duo had pushed aside and wrapped all the furniture, donned their sloppiest clothes (for Regina she had to resort to buying a tank top and sweat pants) and set about bringing life to the house. The perfectionist in Regina made sure Henry chosen colours that matched, but for the most part, he was the boss on the project, and as the president, he framed the extra pictures from the scrapbook and the album around the house. Regina smiled genuinely as he straightened the frame of the three of them on the fireplace mantle.

Change was in the air, and every time she heard a whisper of Emma's name or an event on the news about soldiers overseas, it hurt a little less and her acceptance grew a little more. Regina could safely say she was happy.

There were times over the following months where Regina would watch Emma's video message on repeat, read the conversation of their letters like it was her favourite novel, or slip her arms into Emma's oversized US ARMY shirt and inhale the scent of the worn material, believing for just a moment she could still smell Emma in the fibres. After three years the scent was long gone, but it was okay. Wherever Emma was, she wasn't hurting. She was safe. That was all Regina could ask for. If she ever forgot that, she more easily believed the numerous people in her life reminding herself.

"You have everything?" Regina crouched down by Henry, an oversized and overstuffed duffle strung across his chest as he squirmed in her grasp. "Canteen? Flashlight? Bug spray? Change of underwear?"

"Mo-oom," Henry groaned, looking around to see if any of his friends heard.

She didn't care for his embarrassment, instead clasping his cheeks in her palms with a shaky and tight grip. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. I'm sure we can get your wilderness badge by pitching a tent in our backyard."

"Mom," the eight-year old whined again. "I want to."

She nodded uncertainly as the boys from his Boy Scout troop began to slowly file onto the bus.

"It's just one night."

"If you get frightened or want to come home, just tell Troop Leader Harkness, and he has all my numbers," she reminded him for the fifth time that morning alone.

"I know."

"Here." She reached into her purse and retrieved Rex, holding out the worn and limp dinosaur for him.

He blushed and shook his head. "It's for babies."

Regina's face dropped. "It's Rex."

Henry bit his lip conflicted and leaned in to whisper. "I want Rex to take care of you for tonight ."

She frowned but held the stuffed toy to her chest and nodded again. "Now you didn't answer me. Do you have fresh underwear?"

"Yes, Mom," Henry groaned under his breath.

"Listen to your Troop Leader and don't go around telling ghost stories or staying up late." She smoothed his hair down and out of his face, but Henry leaned back and swooped his fingers through it to get it to look messy again. "I love you."

"I love you too, Mom." She hugged him tightly and kissed him on the cheek, rouging his skin before he took off toward the bus.

She watched him move through the bus and sit down beside Nicholas, looking past his friend briefly to smile out the window and wave. After a few minutes, the bus departed, and the parents bidding their sons goodbye that early May morning either stayed to chat, drifted back to their homes, or stopped by Granny's to beat the breakfast rush.

Regina stayed standing on the corner of Finch and Meadowvale for the longest time, watching the bus shrink in the distance before it turned a corner and disappeared entirely. A knot in her chest tightened. He'll be back tomorrow.

Sighing, she held on to Rex's claw and walked the short distance back to the mansion. For Saturday morning, the streets were a bit more alive than usual. Multiple parents apparently opted to spend the day outdoors in the newly bloomed landscape since they were already up and about. April had been especially rainy this time around, so the sunshine in the new month was a blessing in the New England air.

Regina couldn't fully enjoy it though. She was too acutely that by the time she reached home, no one would be there to greet her. It's just for one night, she reminded herself again. He's with other boys, and Harkness has done this trip a million times, and Nolan is on patrol tonight. That last thought didn't give her much hope, but that was partially due to her distaste for the man.

Reaching Mifflin, it was only a short walk to her front door, and as soon as she stepped in, she never realized how large the mansion was until then. The colour certainly made it more inviting, but standing under her staircase, tossing her keys into the bowl by the side table with a hollow clang, made her feel so very small in her home. She couldn't even remember the last time she was home alone since having Henry.

Calming herself down some, she moved briskly to her kitchen and immediately began scrubbing down her stove. The splotch of grease from when August fried pork chops four nights before was more stubborn to get out, but the steel wool under her fingertips dug into the stain. The stove, along with the oven, the sink, and the counter tops, was spotless in an hour, and Regina looked around for more to do. Curse her natural cleanliness. She barely needed to wipe anything down. She didn't need to go into the office. August was helping Marco with a few orders. Ruby was working until dinner at the diner. Perhaps Kathryn or Tina would come over. She scowled remembering Kathryn was at her father's place for the weekend and Tina, though exuberant with energy for the preschoolers she taught, was hell to be around on weekday mornings.

She fiddled with the circle pendant on her necklace then nodded determinedly. She could face Tina's wrath quite easily.

Just as she reached for the phone, a knock sounded at the door. Her pulse jumped. What if it's about Henry? She left him on the bus an hour ago, could he have really gotten hurt already? No, they would call. She raced to the door regardless and pulled it open swiftly.

Her breathing halted at the first sign of yellow hair.

"Hi."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: This is not an OQ fic. Those who say otherwise have been greatly misinformed.

Fun fact: I was supposed to end this story with the last chapter.

To the guest reviewer who said: If you don't start writing more and having emma return I will have my friend copy your story and continue it himself.

Send me a link! I'll take notes!

Emma suppressed a cry when she felt a searing pain overwhelm her body. She was numb, and the adrenaline that had coursed through her hours? minutes? days?—how long had she blacked out for?—was nearly spent.

She couldn't see. Burlap clung to her sweat-slicked face and judging from the hard, prickled ground beneath her, she was indoors. Hands bound behind her back, Emma was lying on her side as she struggled to ease her breathing and gather her bearings. Don't panic. Do not panic. She took a breath.

They were attacked. Guns. So many guns. The prisoner—Mohammad. No, no, he got out. Neal, Neal was hurt and—

A clang of metal creaked opened and Emma stilled. Deep even breaths. In and out. In and out. Her breath echoed in her ears as low, resounding thuds approached her.

A hard boot to the ribs. She groaned. She didn't have to see to know there was bruising there. The dull hum over her lungs was all the sign she needed.

The booted being crouched down by her, and Emma could feel eyes tracking the slow rise and fall of her chest. In and out. In and out. Suddenly she was jerked upright, and a pain in the back of her calf ripped through her. She couldn't steady her breathing anymore as a guttural groan ground against her throat from the rough handling.

"Still." A thick accented voice commanded when she resisted.

Hands, big and calloused, gripped her waist. Bile rose to her throat. Her face was pressed against the ground again as his hands wandered around her back. Not again. She kicked instinctively, but a pain so strong shot through her left leg that it left her momentarily immobile. She tried to push up onto her knees, but the man shoved her back down, her cheek colliding with the cold concrete.

"No," Emma growled, kicking with her right. She must have caught him with her boot since he yelped and fell backward.

"Sharmoota!"

She squirmed away, trying to put as little weight on her left leg as possible when another sound boomed. Heavy boots echoed, bouncing off the wall with a tinny hallow. Must be little furnishings. Enclosed walls. Another presence. Yelling in Arabic. Still, Emma tried to get to her feet. Get out. Get out. Get out!

She screamed when another kick came to her stomach, curling into herself instinctively and mentally preparing herself for a second. She could have sworn she heard the whoosh of a foot being whipped back, but it never connected. More yelling. Above her. Someone was crouching over her again. One held her shoulders down. The other fiddled at her back again. And then liquid, so burning hot she screamed so loud the fibres of the burlap stuck to her lip and forehead. Her hand was on fire, and every instinct in her told her not to cry, but the sting behind her eyes appeared anyway. The fire simmered to a low hiss, and then a cloth, dry, taking away the pain just a little bit, was wrapped around her hand. Her cries quieted to a whimper and the weight on her shoulder slackened.

The looming figures retreated into the furthest corner of the room, metal creaking shut once again as the only sound that filled the room was Emma's panted breathing.

Emma stared down at her hand, a prosthetic thing that reminded her of Edward Scissorhands with fewer blades but just as mechanical. Her own hand had been mangled and mutilated and every other word that came to mind that could only describe how much she couldn't use it. The nerves in it were too badly damaged. Not from the gunshot, no. From the infection that resulted after god knows what was poured over it to get it 'clean'. Assholes couldn't even spare a drop of alcohol to use instead. She could still see the faint outlines on her forearm, just by the crook of her elbow, where a belt was excruciatingly tightened to slow the spread of infection from the rest of her body. In a few years they would develop more advanced flesh-like limbs, so Emma could upgrade. The thought made her think of August, and she nearly snorted. Henry would have a field day when he saw her. August would love it. And Regina — sometimes it frightened Emma to think of her. Most times she just missed her like crazy.

But she was alive. Small victories. They'd make movies about her, they said. She shut her eyes and slowly curled her fingers in to close her fist. She hoped to god they didn't.

"Captain."

Emma looked up and sat up straighter when Dr. Gambit, a balding man in a pastel purple dress shirt and wire glasses stepped in with her file folder in his hand.

"Emma," she corrected.

"Emma. So." Dr. Gambit sat in front of her in a plush winged-back chair. She was fidgeting nervously with the sleeve of her shirt. "Dr. Mitchell said you say you're ready to go home today?"

"Yes, sir."

"Evan," he corrected in kind. She nodded her understanding. "Why is that? You've been pretty adamant to stay for the last sixteen months since your arrival to Brookhaven."

Emma unconsciously fiddled with the swan necklace still dangling from her neck. Her ID tags still hung there, but like a magnet her fingers always found the small pendant keychain that burned in reminder against her chest. The rehab facility that she had called home for the last year and a half was a place of safety, where people were equipped and trained to help her deal with her own raging mind. They had. Even she could see it. She could be touched now. Not without warning or too fiercely, but the slightest brush didn't make her jump. Her violent outbursts were tamed to a simmering aggravation, and even those were fewer and further between. Some days she would inadvertently trap herself in the memories of her mind, but before when she had no means of escape, she learned how to turn the key and release herself. Breathing exercises, mantras, remembering the good she had done and the good that she was. There was a time where Emma welcomed death, begged for it to come. But for all the bad, Emma thanked whatever god wished her home that she was alive.

"I wasn't ready," she answered quietly yet certainly. Her gaze met his with determination. "I didn't want to hurt anyone if I had a flashback. I didn't want to burden anybody. I needed help that was more than just going back to every day life and dealing with it on my own. I needed to learn how to help myself."

"According to these papers, you've been quite forthcoming with admitting weaknesses and on top of your exercises," he mentioned impressed.

Emma fought the pleased smirk at his compliment even though the doctor was currently enraptured by her file. Emma was a fighter, never quite the sharer. But if fighting meant she had to be open, then she bit the bullet and allowed the doctors the help that they offered. It wasn't an easy road, and there were so many times where Emma physically became sick whenever she was asked to write down or talk about her experiences, but as soon as she was mentally able she was back on that metaphorical horse because she was given a second chance and wasn't gonna waste it.

He nodded then looked over her file, his forehead crinkling in thought before glancing back up. "In Landstuhl, it says here, you attacked a doctor when you woke up from your seven-month coma. It's been a while since then, and while we've already made our assessment, but how do you feel about your progress?"

"That's just proof that I wasn't in a good place," she admitted easily. "Or a good state, for that matter. I think over the past year I've reclaimed the control that was stripped from me. I'm ready to go home, be a part of that again."

"Where is that? You tried to locate Sergeant August William Booth whom you once shared a foster home with but failed."

She nodded and uttered the one place she had been thinking of returning to for over three years. "Storybrooke."

She was in a prison. Literally. They had finally ripped the bag off her head, and Emma could see that the metal creaking had been a jail cell door. An abandoned prison fortified by enemy rebels. How ironically fitting. The air smelled stale and mouldy, and the walls were covered in a permanently damp residue as if the piping was leaking throughout the entire building. When they had taken the bag off, she had looked them in the eye asked if they were going to kill her. Their negative response coupled with the semi-automatic in their hands did nothing to assuage the overwhelming fear simmering inside her.

She hadn't realized there was another man in her cell until she turned to see him hiding in the shadows, knees drawn up to his chest, and the dirt and grime on his face caked on so thick she wondered how long he had been here. The tally marks on the wall said weeks. His hazy eyes and tangled beard said much longer.

Nabil was his name. His overzealous son had joined their captor's cause a year ago, and when a group of men showed up to his front door deeming his land prime real estate to coordinate in and Nabil turned them away, he found himself in this cell, leaving behind his wife and younger son to fend for themselves.

People are coming, Emma reassured him as the dying sun brought them into complete darkness. She wasn't sure if hearing it aloud was more for him or herself.

A week passed, and Emma knew that for certain since she herself added the tallies to the wall with a broken rock. They questioned her. Beat her. Needed to know where her friends had taken their precious Mohammad. She took it, never once saying a word even as her skin broke and her body bled, and when they would toss her back into her cell losing more and more energy every day, she would will herself to crawl to the wall, lean against the sticky dampness, and shut her eyes tightly. The delusion she had in her head that a whole army of tanks would come storming down, guns ablazing, shrunk with each passing day, but the lullaby that was permanently on repeat grew louder.

"This will hurt." Nabil held her leg tightly. The graze from the bullet wound had left a gash so big that even the ripped material from her pants used as a gauze couldn't make it heal any faster. The pain in her hand was obvious, but even just moving her leg felt like a million needles prickling into her skin. A hand she could do without. She needed both legs to run the hell away from here.

She shook her head as he held up the small bowl of water. The men had finally remembered to feed them after three days, but the hardened bread and the murky water was no three-course meal. "Don't waste it," she gasped, trying to no avail to dismiss his help.

He ignored her and dampened a ripped piece of Emma's sleeve into the water and pressed against the wound.

"Ah!" She bit her fist hard, her teeth digging into her knuckles, catching remnants of dirt, salt, and blood.

He looked apologetic before fiddling with the matchbook that had been hidden on Emma's person. "Stay still," he urged and lit the match, bringing it to her open flesh.

"Ahhhh!"

"How'd it go?"

A pleased smile tugged at her lips when she returned to her room after meeting with Gambit, and that was all the woman on the bed needed to cheer. Alicia Stevens, a Boston PD, tossed the magazine she had been reading onto the pillow beside her in her excitement. Alicia, whose forward personality hid the fact that her mind plagued her with nightmares of the crossfire she was caught in and left her with insomnia, had grown to be one of Emma's closest friends in the facility.

The officer had attended sessions at Brookhaven four times weekly thanks to her Captain's orders six months prior. Oddly enough it was Emma who saw the terrified officer and partnered up with her during group help or down time and talked with her on the mornings she returned from her home after another fitful night. Emma's progress escalated in those six months alone, but she was certain that Alicia would be just as ready for duty in no time. Co-healing, that's what Dr. Mitchell called it. Emma just liked having a friend.

She sat on a chair at the desk across from Alicia. Pinned to the wall were drawings and notes Emma had done, practising with both her left and prosthetic hand. Some pictures were simply landscapes or vases and fruits, whatever topic the art program held. Some were of the scenes that plagued her mind. Burning fires. Dark rooms. Hazy figures. But a lot of them were of two brunettes, sloppily drawn since Emma never had much creative ability to start with. Only one of them held a drawing of all three. She leaned back on the chair, her hands clasped behind her head. "I'm going home," she confirmed.

"Finally!" Alicia exclaimed holding her hand up for a high five which Emma met. She leaned closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Stop by a store. Get some flowers and chocolate. Your lady friend must be going crazy by now."

Emma swallowed hard but nodded her acknowledgement. Crazy was one word that had come to mind, especially when she thought about stepping off that airplane and landing on American soil with her clothes on her back, a medal on her breast, and a mechanical hand where her own was missing. She thought about it. Driving straight to Storybrooke and pretending like the last two years hadn't happened. She and Regina were good at pretending. But the noise of the airport made her flinch, and it was overcrowded and uncomfortable, and Emma felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot. She had gone to August's, but instead of the man she called brother, an Asian family of five was occupying the apartment that held some of her best memories. A teenage girl had squinted at her then, no doubt gawking at the scar coming from the edge of her lips and running up her cheek nearly touching her eye like some cruel game of connect the dots. The girl quickly scampered away and returned to hand her a postcard which held a familiar clocktower that was perpetually inactive. No words. No explanation. Just the blank postcard.

Emma had been on her way to Storybrooke that night, stopping briefly in a motel to get some sleep before the drive in the morning, but when the sudden pounding on her door for house cleaning had her jolting so hard out of bed and left her in the fetal position in the corner for over an hour, she knew then why all those foster parents had tossed her away like yesterday's garbage. Too damaged. Too broken. Too much.

But she was better now. She had passed all the tests, and it had been nearly a year since a flashback had taken hold of her. The control she had lost ages ago slowly returned to her over the months, and she knew if she waited any longer, she would regret it.

So Emma bit back the uncertainty and nodded at Alicia again. "I think it's gonna take a lot more than flowers and chocolate."

"Corporal Emma Swan reported missing eleven months ago. Found near Karim by Troop B14 last night. Lacerations on face, back, and torso. Signs of trauma to the head."

The gurney jostled as a blurry mesh of figures in whites and blues spoke over Emma. Their words faded in and out of her ears, and the light above her burned uncomfortably. Someone was touching her. They were all touching her.

"Doctor—"

Emma screamed as the pain in her hand and forearm felt like someone through her into a vat of acid.

"We're going to have to remove it quickly before the infection spreads. Clear an OR!"

For a moment, the voices yelling over her quieted as if a greater force had muted them. Nothing substantial focused her attention, but the serenity that it'd be over soon washed over Emma like the tide on a day at the beach. It'd stop hurting. Soon. Soon, it'd stop.

A country song played on the radio about a man missing his baby. Emma wasn't familiar with the tune, but every station boasted some mainstream pop that just went over her head. Sixteen months ago, she found that the storage locker where she kept the bug was empty, forcing her to get a rental for the trip to Storybrooke that never came. Back in another rental — a hybrid that admittedly ran more smoothly than her bug — Emma was cruising along the interstate.

Not once did she stop thinking about the postcard left for her, tucked safely away in a bag with even less personal belongings than she ever had. She knew what lay in Storybrooke, just a short drive away. Regina. Henry. A life she could have had with a real family that wanted her. She could still have that. Hopefully. But one look down at the hand she wasn't used to and the trauma she carried on her chest as big as the scar on her face, she knew she couldn't have that anymore. Not just yet. So she had checked herself into Brookhaven, living under their watchful care like the ghost the rest of the world thought her to be.

Every single day she wondered if she made the right choice, distancing herself. Then she remembered breaking a doctor's nose back in Landstuhl because he happened to be inspecting her when her Commander asked her to recount the time when she was forced to fight Nabil for a chance at freedom and the memory was too strong to pull away from.

She knew she was right to keep away.

Three months ago she had contacted that doctor and apologized. Another incident hadn't happened since, and Emma learned to keep it that way.

The song ended just as she veered off the ramp and into a plaza, heading for a drive-thru line up. She'd be needing sustenance for the long drive ahead. Or maybe she was just stalling. Because when the hell did a McDonald's become a McCafe, and what else had happened the world, let alone Storybrooke, since she had been away?

Emma avoided the doctor's eyes as blood spilled from his nose, staining his white coat and the front of his dress shirt as nurses tended to his broken nose. She curled into her bed, clawing at the roots of her hair, her stump laying limply across her knees as she tried to physically rip away the screams terrorizing her head. One minute death was beating at her door, sneaking its way into her brain as heat and fatigue took hold of her as she lay abandoned on the dessert ground. The next she was waking up in a hospital, tubes strapped in and around her body and her hand missing altogether. The shock nearly made her slip into another coma.

Her mind was spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl at a carnival as images and noises collided into her brain. Blood. Hers—Arrorró mi niño—Her hand, it hurt so goddamn much. Nabil. Oh god and Nabil—Arrorró mi amor—A child's voice. You stay. You stay. You—Smack. Take us to him! Like hell I'm telling—Smack—Arrorró pedazo de mi corazón.

"Any luck on Booth yet?"

"Last known residence vacated."

"Swan. Soldier, look at me."

She flinched hard and pushed away, curling further into the head of her bed as she ripped at her skull, gasping and sobbing and hyperventilating as her nails dug into her flesh. "Emma Swan: 442 68 9567. Emma Swan: 442 68 9567."

"Get psych up here."

The Welcome to Storybrooke sign greeted her like an old friend. The first time Emma had passed it was five years ago when August all but kicked her out of his apartment. The nerves she felt then at the chance of meeting her mystery correspondent was nothing compared to the tension coiling in her stomach now. It wasn't just some phantom name she was looking for. It was Regina. Regina and Henry. That ridiculously grand house on Mifflin. Her friends. If they were still there.

Who was she kidding? That time of her life was over. Emma did what she always did best and kept herself away, ran away from the one good thing in her life, and for what?

No.

It's not your fault, she reminded herself as her hand gripped the steering wheel tightly. You've come so far. Don't doubt yourself now. Just try.

Her grip slackened as she edged away from the borders of the town and entered civilization. For a moment, it was as if she was coming home. The streets looked the same. The shops were still standing. That clock tower was still stuck at 8:15. Relief flooded through her as she came to a stop at a four-way. It was all still here. Nothing changed. The sleepy town that was her paradise was waiting for her.

Emma slowly inched her way forward, her heart beating rapidly in her ears as she turned down the street and headed down Main. Already the morning rush was heading down the road and turning onto Granny's patio for a nice hot brew and a stack of flapjacks. Joggers waved to each other as they passed. Early morning children were on their bikes, eager to get in as many hours of daylight as they could. The drumming in Emma's chest grew, urging her faster, further, like a signal in battle, though who Emma was facing she had no clue. All she knew was that as she turned right on Brighton, the pounding quieted to a static da-dum da-dum.

"How is it today, Emma?"

"It's good," Emma nodded, flexing and releasing the fingers of her prosthetic as the joints moved on her command. "It's a better fit, and I have more control over it."

Dr. Mitchell, a grey-haired man with a toothy smile, grinned at the blonde and made a note in his book. "You've mastered it quite quickly."

"Thanks," the blonde grinned running her prosthetic through her hair bashfully. "I'm still getting used to suddenly being left-handed."

He held up a writing assignment from her folder, the shaky near illegible writing supporting her claim. "With your learning curve, I imagine you'll pick that up on top of learning to hold a pen in your right hand."

"You think so?"

"As long as you do." He closed her folder and leaned forward in his chair. "Yesterday we stopped after Nabil's death."

"They shot him. I did everything I could," she said solemnly.

"Yes. You did nothing wrong, and neither did he. Do you think you can continue from there?"

She nodded again. "I might not remember all of it."

"That's okay. We'll see how coherent it is together and whenever you want to stop we can," the doctor reassured.

Emma took a breath, her prosthetic fingers flexing on command as she remembered defending every blow Nabil landed on her and watching as he was gunned down after the only hit she forced herself to make on him. "I was alone in the cell for the longest time after he died. It must have been weeks, but most days I was too tired to count. Sometimes I wanted them to kill me, but they wanted to use me as leverage. Like trading at a supermarket or something. Sometimes I wondered if they just kept me around for sport. Then there was yelling and—" she squinted trying to navigate through her memory.

"Take your time," Mitchell encouraged. "We can stop whenever you like."

"I had been coming in and out for days. Long enough to maybe have some bread and some water before I'd black out again. But there was yelling. The door creaked open really quickly and someone shouldered me like a sack of potatoes and I was being moved and stuffed in a truck. The last thing I remember was being kicked out and laying in the hot sun. They must have been leaving me out for dead."

She scrunched up her face as a sudden thought hit her. Dr. Mitchell pressed. "You were badly beaten and malnourished and delusional. Do you remember how you got to that village near Karim?"

She shook her head slowly, eyes squinting so hard as if she could telepathically clear the foggy image in her brain. "I was so sure I was gonna die. Then I heard it. This song. It soothes me."

Dr. Mitchell's eyebrows rose in intrigue. "What song?"

"A lullaby," Emma supplied in realization. "My—she—my girlfriend."

"Regina?" Mitchell guessed after the numerous sessions he had presided with the soldier, the brunette was bound to come up again.

Emma nodded. "She used to sing it all the time. If it wasn't her voice it was Henry's telling me to come home, and if it wasn't them that song would just keep playing. I heard it then, in the desert, waiting to die. I thought I saw them, and those stories where people who are dying go toward the light or they see their loved ones taking them to a better place—I guess I did that. I tuned into their voices and followed blindly."

"If we may digress a little," Dr. Mitchell asked leaning his elbows on his knees. "Why stay away now? Are you ready to call her?"

Emma hesitated for a second, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap as she mulled over the question she haunted herself with every day. "Look at me, doc," she answered quietly. "I'm a mess."

"It looks to me like you're cleaning up just fine."

The mansion looked the same as the last time she had seen it. Freshly mowed lawn. Open wrought iron gates. Trimmed hedges. Rose bushes outlining the pristine white panels. It was the same house she had dreamed about, wished to come home to, longed to step into one more time if just to see the family that resided there. But it wasn't the same. Not with how much time had passed.

She sat in the rental for a full five minutes, looking up at the mayoral mansion. Was Regina even still Mayor? How did that even work here? Her fingers tightened. She should have called. She should have called so long ago. She should find a phone and call now.

Her palm sweat and Emma fiddled with the keys in the ignition. Maybe it was better this way. Her mind was too warped and her body too scarred. But she had fought. God, had she fought for the chance to get better. She wasn't the same person Regina loved. Not by a long shot.

But you promised, she told herself. If you got out alive, you'd come back for her because you promised.

To hell with promises, Emma just wanted to see her. Just one more time, even if it was the last time, just one more time and she'd be okay.

So with a steadying breath, she stepped out of the car and made her way up the path and onto the porch. The doorbell rang loudly inside the mansion, and a beat passed before Emma thought that perhaps no one was home. Then the door swung open and her breath stopped.

Regina. It was Regina. Regina, lips parted in disbelief and eyes blown wide, stood just inside the threshold. Regina, the woman she had dreamed about nearly every night for as long as she could remember, was standing in front of her. Her hair was longer, curling past her shoulders, and though the evidence of her age appeared in the crinkles of her eyes, Regina was still the most beautiful woman Emma had ever seen. Most importantly, making Emma's breath catch in her throat, Regina was there.

"Hi," Emma said lamely with a timid shrug of her shoulder because after three years of waiting for this moment everything she thought that would happen just flew out the window.

Happy tears. Yelling. Shouting. A hug. A kiss. More kisses. Anything other than the gaping expression plastered on Regina's face. She opened her mouth again to speak but her face scrunched up in confusion just as Regina slammed the door shut.

Her heart sped up and dropped to her stomach, dread pooling deep into the pit of her gut as she stared at the wooden door barring her. Before Emma could even think to turn tail and run or ring the doorbell again, the door opened slowly, just the teensiest crack as Regina peered through the opening.

Emma ducked her head closer and smiled softly. The dread that swirled in her gut fluttered up into her chest. Unbidden tears came to her eyes as she stared upon the older woman, her smile growing with every second. "Hi," she repeated.

"You're here?" Regina croaked as the door opened just a bit wider.

"Yeah."

Regina shook her head and shut her eyes. "No. No you're dead."

The blonde swallowed hard. "I know."

"You know?" Regina hissed and the door was open fully, her eyes blown wide again, and though glassy, the fire behind them still flaming.

Emma pressed her hand to her mouth, stilling her quivering lip because even if she was gonna get cursed out on a porch, she didn't care because she had waited so goddamn long for this moment and she was going to take it. Regina looked older, worry lines creasing her forehead and eyes, her hair longer, curling around her shoulders. She was so goddamn beautiful.

Regina's gaze had zeroed in on Emma's hand, the prosthetic pressed to her lips, and whatever words she was going to spew left her as she moved her own hand to her lips to hold back an impending sob. "You—you're not dead?" She asked shakily, holding herself tight.

Emma shook her head. "No. I'm here."

Whether they both moved or the earth itself had split just so that the two women could embrace tightly, they found each other sobbing into the other's neck, gripping tightly, keeping each other here.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: If you guys get a chance, check out this wicked awesome trailer that the lovely misslane has done for this story! www(period)youtube(period)com / watch?v = piM _ rOMIia8 or just look up "Letters From War 2015 | SwanQueen | HunnyFresh Fanfic"

The mansion was different than when Emma was last here. The black and white theme associated with the house was painted over in the most vibrant colours she had seen. Despite the obvious brightness of the mansion, what drew Emma up the foyer and into the hallway were the pictures hung up on the walls. Crinkled photographs protected behind the most delicate ornate frames. Her lips twitched. They were hers. One she kept hidden in a bag long forgotten encased in the one place she felt was home.

Her heart swelled with longing, with the rightness of being there, but she couldn't squash the niggling feeling in the back of her mind that her time was up. Once they had retreated into the house, separating their hold on one another, neither women had said a word, both awkwardly shifting from one foot to another, gauging the other's reaction. A flood of emotion was welling up inside Emma like a flooded dam after a heavy rainstorm, and as she examined the pictures, she could feel the cracks holding the water at bay. She was a stranger in this household, nothing more than a fond memory. In a town where time stood still, life went on despite Emma holding tightly with a vice-like grip.

The tension in the air shifted when Regina closed the door, leaning against it as her eyes followed Emma's track. The blonde tightened, her fist closing in uncertainty as she slowly circled to face Regina, her left leg limping just the slightest bit as it acted up in nerves. "You painted."

Regina nodded. "This past Christmas. Henry picked out the colours."

Emma swallowed hard and chanced a glance at a frame of a not so little boy beaming up into the camera, his cheeks caked with dirt as he stood beside a little sapling of a tree. "He's big," she said in wonder.

Regina's hollow steps echoed in the foyer, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she approached the blonde. Her arms crossed over her stomach when she stopped just shy of intimate in front of Emma, and though the younger woman had been pretty good at reading people's behaviour, she wasn't sure what was happening then. Closed off posture. Stiff back. Emma's breath quickened. This was too much.

"You're here," Regina repeated in a disbelieving whisper.

"Yeah," Emma croaked quietly.

The brunette shook her head slowly, her bangs falling into her eyes as she struggled to form words around her shock. "Where were you?"

The familiar tension coiling Emma's bones flitted through her as memories came unbidden to her mind. With a deep exhale and a release of her fist, the tightness relinquished its hold and she shrugged half-heartedly. "That's a really long story."

"Three and a half years." Emma stopped at the strain in the normally put together woman's voice and watched as chocolate eyes glistened with unshed tears. Regina visibly shook, though the hold she had around herself dimmed it to a minuscule vibration. "That's how long you've been gone for. Three and a half years. I don't care how long your story is. What happened to you?"

Emma took the tiniest step forward, her right arm outstretched as instinct told her she needed her fingers laced with Regina's, and it had been far too long since then. But she paused just before contact and stuffed her hands into her jacket pocket hastily.

"I was captured," she provided simply in a quiet voice. "I don't know their names, and I doubt I ever will. My saving grace was that they thought they could trade me for one of their guys or provide information." She chuckled dryly, unconsciously touching the scar on her cheek suffered under a shaky yet desperate knife. "I'm pretty good at resisting."

A tear escaped as Regina's eyes bore holes into Emma's body. The blonde could hear the questions: What did they do? Are you okay? You're here? You're really here? Emma held her breath, chest swelling, threatening to burst, as Regina took a small step of her own, closing the gap between them by yet another inch. "You were held hostage for all this time? They told me you were captured, but—"

"No."

Regina stopped and her watery eyes narrowed in confusion. "No?"

Their time apart made Emma romanticize this moment nearly every day, helping her rationalize her decision to stay away. She remembered a time where she was sitting in an armoured car, excited to see the look of ecstatic shock on Regina's face when she surprised her at Christmas. That time was stolen from her, and in its place, a three-year gap where the soldier kept a phantom figure of this woman she called lover engraved deeply in her mind. Regina with her dark chocolate eyes that twinkled with mirth whenever she was pleased. The melodic velvet of her laughter as cheeks dimpled in happiness. The firm touch of her grasp as their hands found each other in synchrony. So consumed in the memories that kept her hanging on each day, Emma nearly forgot that those same chocolate eyes that brightened with joy could also darken in undisguised contempt.

"What do you mean no?" Regina asked dangerously.

Emma fidgeted before green eyes locked with brown. "I've been getting treatment for over a year now. Just in Boston."

"What?" Regina took a step forward, closing the gap between them effectively. "You've been in Boston this whole time?"

"Brookhaven. I've been seeing a therapist for my PTSD."

A thousand emotions crossed Regina's features in a millisecond. Concern, hope, guilt, remorse. Emma shouldn't have been surprised when she settled on one as Regina scoffed disbelieving, using a pinky to wipe away the offending tear. "You were in Boston," she repeated.

"I wasn't well," Emma argued, her jaw tightening.

"Neither was I!" Regina snapped in a fiery blaze as if those thousand emotions shook together like soda in a pop can and blew off its lid. "I thought you were dead! I mourned you. And you were—"

A knock sounded at the door. Both women turned to glare at it, willing the intruder to go away, but it was Regina who broke apart with a departing stare and walked the short distance down the foyer steps and to the door.

The breath Emma had been holding came out in a whoosh as she paced over to the foot of the main stairs and dropped down on the last step, her hand threading in her hair in frustration. What was she thinking? Disappear for three years and return like no time had passed? A part of her hoped that would suffice, that they could just pick up where they left off in a flurry of hugs and kisses and be on their way. It could have been worse, she thought with another deep exhale. Regina could have been married or—her ears prickled at the sound of a high pitched voice. A child.

"Wanna come to Granny's, Regina?" In the mirror opposite her, Emma could see the reflected images of Regina's back and the open door. On the stoop was a man, tall, chinstrap, nice face, and a little boy with dimples so deep it made the Grand Canyon look like a crack. The man looked hopeful and the boy excited, but Emma couldn't gauge Regina's reaction unless she crane her neck and reveal herself, so she kept close to the banister, watching the interaction through the mirror.

"Granny's?" Regina repeated as she bent down to the child, her voice softer than the strained aggravation it was mere moments ago. "That's very kind of you to offer, Roland."

"He insisted," the man spoke, and Emma refrained from rolling her eyes because of course his voice was laced with everything made of a gentleman. "I know it's your first day alone in the house without Henry, so we thought you might like the company."

Emma's breath hitched. She chanced a glance at the mirror again to see the man smiling at Regina like she was the world. Emma knew that smile. It was one she wore quite often when she was the lone visitor in the Mills mansion. Her stomach dropped. She nearly stood from her spot as her mouth parted in horror. Oh god. What the hell was she thinking? Regina did move on, and as much as Emma wanted to be upset, pissed that the one person she had depended on didn't wait for her, she couldn't blame Regina. She should have called. So long ago. She shut her eyes. The painted house, the longer hair, the man at the door. She waited too long. She needed to get out of here. Far away. Before she did any more damage.

"Now isn't the greatest time," Regina answered, "but I appreciate your invitation. Perhaps another day?"

"Of course." The man took the boy's hand and nodded. "We'll be off."

Regina closed the door behind them and leaned against the woodwork, a similar position to one she had taken up minutes ago, but this time, instead of the disbelief clouding her features, Emma could see something else. Conflict? Regret? Anger? She stood from her hiding spot and hovered at the top of the foyer steps, left hand shoved deep into her back pocket as her prosthetic fingers flexed out a nervous rhythm.

"Look, I'm sorry—"

"You're sorry?" Regina interrupted, pushing off from the door and taking two steps toward the base of the foyer. "Three years and all you have to say is you're sorry?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want an explanation," the brunette demanded, softness gone replaced with an angry inquisition. "I want to know why you let me believe you were dead for so long and deem me worthy enough for a visit now, when I'm settled now, when I spent too many hours crying over you and wishing you would come back only to have to spend even more time admitting to myself that you were gone."

"Do you think I wanted to spend six months of my life trapped in a cell getting beat every day?" Emma snapped, her voice rising an octave. "I almost died! I should have! I was found on the side of a dirt road nearly beaten to death." She scoffed dryly. "Just like when I was a baby. Only this time I hung on. I hung on by a thread, and you know what was the last thing I saw in my mind when I thought it was over? When I was so sure this would be it? You. I saw you and Henry, so forgive me for living."

Regina faltered with a blink of an eye and a hitch of her breath. She placed a heeled foot at the last step then paused. Their eyes bore into one another daring the other to make the next move. There was a time where the idea of being together was like rain on a sunny day. There was no sun this time. Not yet. Just this thunderstorm flooding their systems until they were bare emotions, suffocating, drowning, fighting for release.

The dam broke.

Regina shot up and Emma caught her around the middle. In a blur of arms and limbs they kissed fiercely, determinedly, needing something to prove. Regina's lips were exactly as she remembered, firm and full and tasting like mocha and just plain right. She sucked in a breath and held tighter, her arms weaving around a slim waist to pull the older woman up onto her toes and onto the the main floor as Regina gripped her shoulders and held on.

The noise in her head, the doubt and the fear and the insecurity washed away as the feelings welled up inside her poured out in a tidal wave. This was all they needed to hold on and ride the waves trying to pull them under. Regina parted her lips and flicked her tongue outward, begging Emma's attention which the blonde was all too eager to pay. Emma was breathing and drowning all at the same time as she tugged Regina away from the foyer and further into the hallway. Inhaling Regina was better than oxygen, and if she could live on this woman alone, she would do so in a heartbeat. Her hands wandered, scraping the flesh beneath her palm when her left hand found the smooth back underneath her blouse and scraped her nails downward.

Regina hissed, pulling back just an inch to reveal nearly blackened eyes, and retaliated, gripping Emma's jaw in between manicured fingers and claiming Emma's lips in a bruising kiss. The impact was enough to send Emma tumbling backward, her hip knocking into the side table behind her and disturbing the bills, pens, and keys settled there. She steadied herself with a palm on the table and a hand on Regina's waist, but what made Emma whimper was when Regina's knee inadvertently pressed against Emma's core.

Desire flooded through her, and though the logical part of her was telling her that this wasn't the smartest idea, that there was too much they needed to say, the part of her that missed Regina so much she almost called it quits with her therapy and ran straight to Storybrooke had taken control.

"Regina," Emma whispered, removing her hand from the small of her back to grip her waist.

The brunette gasped peppering kisses so lightly on Emma's jaw, the blonde wanted to giggle. "Say it again."

"Hmm?" Her eyes drifted shut, and the intensity clouding them mere seconds ago simmered to a bubbling heat.

"My name. Say my name again."

She placed a tiny kiss in the corner of red lips, now smudged from eagerness. Her breath ghosted over tanned skin, her lip brushing Regina's as just a tickle before it settled on the scar above her lip. "Regina."

Emma was pulled in again for another searing kiss, this one less hurried but just as passionate as the last, and all Emma could do was hold on. "Emma."

Her lips curled into a smile and the ringing in her ears hummed until the only sound she could hear was Regina whispering her name over and over. It wasn't until she looked down to see that the brunette was in fact peppering kisses down Emma's jaw, along her neck, and up behind her ear, each kiss laced with her name, promising the world.

"Are you really here?" Regina whispered in her ear so softly the tingles made her shiver and pull the brunette closer.

She nodded. "I'm here."

Rational thinking was thrown out the window when Emma followed Regina eagerly up the stairs. Like so many times before, the brunette was leading the blonde by the fingertips and did it ever feel like home. Her eyes were trained on the older woman in front of her who continued glancing back with every step just to make sure Emma was still there, and every time green eyes met brown, Emma would squeeze her hand and pick up her pace just a little bit.

The need to be close was stronger than ever, and as soon as the bedroom door was shut behind them, the air thickened once again. They didn't wait to join their lips. They had done enough waiting. So Emma drowned in the mocha taste of Regina, vowing to never be without these lips for too long again because out of everything she had been through, that may have just been the cruelest form of torture.

They stepped toward the bed, Emma leading her backwards until the mattress hit Regina's knees, and Emma settled her down gently onto the duvet, hovering over her, refusing to part for a second. Regina was the first to pull away only to trail her lips down Emma's neck. The blonde moaned at the sensation and snapped her eyes shut until she felt Regina move upwards toward the head of the bed, bringing Emma with her by the belt loops.

She inched closer to the draped brunette, doubling at the waist to lower her lips to the exposed stomach there. Regina sighed, legs parting to better accommodate the woman on top of her. With each kiss, Emma expertly released the latch of Regina's blouse buttons, starting with the bottom and moving her way up with every hotly press of her tongue and lips against taut flesh until she reached a beige satin bra. Emma's breath quivered in want, hot air tickling Regina enough to make her squirm, then she latched her lips above the breast.

Regina groaned and threaded fingers through Emma's hair, pulling the blonde away from her ministrations to capture her lips in a desperate kiss. They hadn't done much other than heated kisses and that one blissful night in Boston, but instinct suddenly took over, and all Emma could think was that she needed to lose herself in this woman.

"Can we?" Regina asked breathily, just as frantic as Emma with her hair mussed, shirt open, pleading. She tugged the blonde's coat from her shoulders leaving Emma in her plain grey tee.

Emma opened her eyes to stare down at two darkened pupils, desire-filled and begging. The affirmation was on the tip of her tongue, but when Emma moved her hand to palm Regina's cheek reassuringly, her gaze zeroed in on her hand, metal against flesh. Her fingers curled in self-consciously, and Emma settled back on her knees, desire making way for embarrassment. "You don't . . .have to. Close your eyes. I can—"

Regina quieted her with another kiss. When their breathing laboured, Regina had taken Emma's palm, fingers clasped between the robotic joints and examined it as though she had just uncovered a precious gem. "Am I hurting you?"

"No."

Her lips came down over Emma's knuckles before releasing her fingers to trail her hand up Emma's forearm, caressing the socket there.

"It's just a nub," Emma muttered, drawing back completely and avoiding her gaze.

"I don't care what it is. It's you. Here." Regina let out a breathy disbelieving laugh. "Emma, you're here."

She smiled widely unable to control the flutter in her chest and found she didn't want to. "You're here," Emma repeated sounding just as astounded as the brunette. "Regina."

Regina mimicked her smile and nodded, biting her lip as she did so, her fingers dancing on the hem of Emma's t-shirt. "I have been waiting for you."

"Me too." Emma curled her fingers with Regina's, staring intently at her just to make sure before slowly helping her lift the fabric of the shirt up and over her head.

Regina was silent as she took in Emma's body. Her eyes roved over every inch, and though there was desire there, the love shining through made Emma want to blush. Emma followed her gaze down her torso to her bra-clad chest and harnessed shoulder, down to the long scar down her collarbone and the healed scrapes scattering across her stomach.

Emma turned away, her hand on her belly as if that alone could prevent Regina from seeing, but before she could fully settle, Regina floated up from her spot so the blonde was nestled over her between her legs and grasped Emma's fingers, leading them away from her stomach and keeping them intertwined on the bed. Quietly, Regina traced every visible scar with the pad of her fingers. A jagged cut down her right hip. A faint horizontal outline just under her chest. She kissed them. She kissed them all then moved to the scar on her collarbone and licked a line along its path. "You are even more beautiful than I remember," Regina whispered against her flesh.

Emma couldn't help but sigh at the sensation and steady herself with her free hand on Regina's waist. She was too broken. Physically damaged. But she believed Regina. Believed her words and every touch against her skin and the stinging water behind her eyes couldn't be helped when Regina threaded their fingers together again, metal between flesh.

"I love you." Emma found herself whispering though she knew that's all she wanted to say. "I love you."

"I love you too," Regina ground out in a desperate whisper before releasing Emma's hands and wrapping her arms around her neck. "God, I've missed you."

Like magnets, their lips were drawn to one another, moulding to perfection as they lay against each other on the bed once more. Any hesitation or doubt was gone because in this moment, even if this was their last moment or their first moment or by some will of the gods they were allowed just a few hours of time, they were together.

One more time, Emma told herself as her fingers unclasped beige satin, pushing the blouse and bra from Regina's shoulders. Lips trailed down familiar grooves of the softest body, memorizing every plane. If she was going to wake tomorrow and this all be a dream, she'd have one more time to relish in everything that was Regina Mills.

Regina helped Emma unbutton and pull off her slacks, her underwear the next to go.

Emma sat back on her knees, taking in the naked goddess beneath her. Pert nipples staring skyward, golden flesh kissed with a hint of pink from the heat coiling through her, smile shyly coy but eyes similar to Emma's: disbelief and wonder and unadulterated happiness. One more time was thrown out the window because she couldn't be happy with just one. She needed Regina like she needed air. Her hand stroked up a smooth calf and over a knee before tickling the older woman's thigh so her legs fell apart with a giggle.

Too long. Way too long, Emma thought as she scooted down to lie in between Regina's legs, her fingers still tickling high on heated thighs as she pressed kisses below the brunette's ridiculous yet amazing belly button ring.

"Wait," Regina whispered though on the breath of a moan Emma almost didn't catch it.

She lifted her head, chin resting on Regina's pubic bone as her finger lazily drew circles at the juncture of her thigh. The brunettes eyes fluttered before sitting up abruptly and tugging Emma until their lips crashed. "You." There was no mistaking the beg in Regina's voice. "I want you. Please. Please, Emma."

Her bottom lip tugged between Regina's teeth, Emma could only succumb to the pooling desire tightening in her groin as she twisted onto her back with a breathy "okay", pulling Regina flush against her, but the brunette hovered over her on an arm and soaked her in like she was the Eighth Wonder of the World. Fingers trailed lithely across Emma's bare stomach making her quiver until Regina reached her shoulder and toyed with her bra strap.

"Can I take this off?" She asked uncertainly.

"Yes," Emma said with a nod and sat up, shucking off one strap, then two, until Regina reached behind her, their eyes locked on one another, and unclasped the fabric. Her fingers trailed down to the denim at Emma's waist, repeating her question, and for a second Emma faltered.

"You don't have to."

"I want to." She took the older woman's hands in hers and led them to the button of her jeans, reassuring her with a soft kiss. "I want you."

Her jeans were undone and pulled down her legs, and with a final reassuring nod to the wide-eyed brunette, Regina carefully slid damp panties down pale legs leaving Emma just as bare as Regina.

There was a time when Emma was proud of her body, smug, in fact, of her defined muscles, strong back, and firm abs. Years ago she purposely used her tank top as a sweat towel so Regina could catch her in only a sports bra and spanks. Now, Emma suddenly felt self-conscious. The scar on the back of her calf where Nabil had burned the skin to get it to heal was a dark brown against otherwise pale skin. Her legs were bonier, and the evidence of her trauma stood out like a beacon. Emma was tempted to turn away, but she knew her back was just as bad.

"I'm not dreaming again, am I?" Regina suddenly asked as she knelt by the foot of the bed.

"You dream about this too?"

"All the time." Slowly, carefully, gauging Emma's reaction as she ascended, Regina crawled her way up and over Emma's body until she was situated between parted legs. "You're better than any dream."

Emma's breath caught in her throat, and any insecurities she had flew out the window. Every scenario Emma came up with didn't hold a candle to this, right here, right now.

Lips against lips. Breasts against breasts. Emma pulled away to stare up at the ceiling, revelling in the feeling of Regina's lips descending down her torso. Breathy gasps. Bucking hips. Emma needed more after so long apart. Her scars were the last thing on her mind as Regina's tongue tickled the coarse hairs covering her sex, the heat from her breath making her clench in want.

"Beautiful," the brunette murmured. "So beautiful."

And then Regina was on her. No barrier. No distractions. No regrets. Regina against Emma.

Emma shut her eyes and moaned. Her toes tingled and curled as Regina's mouth sucked greedily, as if Emma would disappear any moment. Bending her knees and opening herself wider, all Emma could do was give herself willingly to Regina who took worshipping to a whole new level as her fingers toyed with Emma's entrance. With a jerk of her hips, she guided Regina gloriously inside. That was all the sign she needed to continue thrusting on her own, using Emma's moans and pants as a sign to go deeper, find the source of her wetness, and god did Emma squeeze her fingers tight, keeping her there.

"Regina," Emma gasped when the brunette nibbled on the bundle of nerves that sent Emma's hips rocking. "Regina."

"I'm here," she promised. "I'm here."

That was all she needed to let go. The only coherent thought racing through her mind as the tension inside her built and exploded, sending her back arching and her hands fisted in blanket was Regina Regina Regina.

"I'm here," Regina repeated, kissing her way up Emma's sweat-slicked body.

Tears prickled at Emma's eyes, but she didn't care to wipe them away for as soon as Regina was levelled with her. She caught smudged red lips with her own, tears freely streaming down her face. It wasn't until they pulled back moments later did Emma realize that Regina's cheeks were just as damp, not from Emma, but from her own happiness as her eyes shifted wildly over Emma's face, still not sure the blonde was really in front of her.

Emma kissed her softly, tugging brown locks to the side of Regina's neck in a fist to hold her tightly as she whispered against her lips. "I'm not going anywhere."

Regina released a breathy sob. It became more than just a whimper as the brunette shook with tears, burying her face in Emma's neck and holding her just as fiercely. Their fingers found one another, lacing through the spaces until they connected instinctively, their hands squeezing in reassurance to remind the other that they were there. Together. Finally.

Emma held Regina for long minutes, their heated bodies cooling as they lay naked on top of the rumpled blankets and scattered pillows. Once intimate desire was taken care of for the time being, it gave way to more rational thought as Emma stroked up and down Regina's back, her arms tight and sure around her as she cried.

She had done this. She had made the strongest woman she ever knew choke with sobs so fierce they wracked her body. She had no choice, Emma reminded herself. If Emma hadn't have taken care of herself, the baggage she carried would have driven a wedge between them or worse. She shut her eyes. There were always choices. Maybe she really did make the wrong one.

"I'm sorry," the blonde whispered genuinely into Regina's ear as she pressed kisses along Regina's temple and hummed the one song that kept her sane as she rocked her.

Regina continued to cry, and the tear tracks staining Emma's face minutes earlier moistened again with fresh regret. Then suddenly the cries against her neck weren't a watery, mournful sob. Regina's shoulders continued to shake and Emma pulled back to see the brunette smiling, laughing like some mad woman. Cheeks were red and wet and brown eyes were red-rimmed, and god did she ever look gorgeous.

"I'm sorry." It was all Emma could think to provide, but that seemed to make the older woman laugh even harder.

"Sorry?" Regina repeated as she wiped at her eyes. With a quickness Emma hadn't anticipated, Regina clutched Emma's neck and brought their lips together in a kiss that should have been hard, but the intimacy and pure devotion pressed into it made it soft, tender, right. "You're home," she whispered. "Don't apologize for that."

They lay against one another, shimmying under the blankets to escape the chill yet refusing to have their bodies part. On their sides, they faced one another, legs tangled under the duvet and their faces a hair's breadth apart. Emma ran a toe up a smooth calf, grinning when Regina's concentration faltered as she played with the harness of the prosthetic. Silence came over them, but neither found the words to say what they were feeling. When Regina fingered the spot where the attachment met her flesh, Emma's eyes flashed worriedly before examining brown eyes to see nothing more than curiosity, wonder, and sadness. No judgment. No pity. Love at its finest. Wordlessly, Emma leaned up on her forearm and removed the harness and fiddled with the base until her hand was off, leaving the stump of her arm crooked just at the elbow.

Emma wondered if the move may have been too much as she deposited the prosthetic on the bedside table, but as soon as she settled down, Regina's hand hovered over her right arm. Painted nails raked up and down her bicep, tickling her shoulder all the way down to the bend of her elbow where it curved over. Most days Emma could still feel phantom pain in the hand that wasn't there, but right now, she could have sworn she felt Regina's thumb rubbing circles across her knuckles. Tingles shot through Emma's spine at the sensation as Regina repeated the motion up and down.

"Why didn't you call?" Regina asked in a dejected whisper, her free hand playing with a strand of yellow hair.

"Look at me, Regina." Emma couldn't help but turn her scarred cheek away and tuck her handless arm into her side. "I was the last thing you would have wanted in your life when they found me."

Regina took Emma's chin between her fingers and caught her eyes. "But you would have been in my life."

Emma shook her head. "No. You would have gotten an empty shell."

"I wouldn't have cared," Regina insisted. It was her turn to look away, dropping her hand from Emma's face and playing with a loose thread from her pillow. "Do you have—every single day I wanted you to come home and you were just in another state?"

"I wanted to. Believe me I did." Emma reclaimed Regina's hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, not willing to let go just yet. Regina could easily be one step away from kicking her out of her bed, out of her life, to let this miracle be just a fluke. Another desperate kiss to her wrist, a tongue to her forearm, and soon Emma was trailing her lips up Regina's neck and jaw until the sweet taste of the brunette's lips was on her tongue again. "I wasn't okay. I was—I wasn't good yet."

"You could have come here instead of you making a decision for me." Despite the hurt in her tone, Regina craned her neck to give Emma free reign over the tendons there, whimpering when she nipped at the spot between her neck and shoulder.

The younger woman pulled back far enough that Regina opened her eyes from the loss. Sadness and toil shrouded green eyes apologetically. "It was for me. For once I thought about myself and I needed to be okay with myself before I kept continuing on with my life." She closed the gap between them and instinctively reached out to grasp Regina around the forearm. "I couldn't let you deal with me when I couldn't deal with me."

When their foreheads pressed, Emma whispered so quietly it was as if she were revealing a state secret. In a way it was. The reason why she didn't return to Storybrooke the second she returned to the States, why she continued to torture herself. "I was scared."

"Of what?"

"Hurting you. Hurting Henry," she explained.

Regina's hands moved to tug Emma closer by the waist, but the blonde refrained from exhaling her relief at the source of comfort. This was too good to be true.

"When they found me, there were days where I would lay there, shaking, twitching, trapped. I could barely be in the same room with someone without flinching and if someone got too close, sometimes I'd react. Not in a good way."

"I want to be mad at you," Regina admitted.

"You can," Emma mumbled sheepishly.

"No need to be a martyr." Regina bristled with a scoff before stroking the smooth plane of Emma's stomach. It wasn't as defined as Regina remembered, but it drew her in just the same. "A part of me is upset. A big part of me wants to smack you."

"Yeah," the blonde muttered, gazing downward and focusing intently on the quilted design of the bed sheet. Here it comes. Any minute now.

"But I'm just too happy that you're home to really give a damn."

Emma's eyes snapped up to Regina's, a blush heating her cheeks and a smile quirking at the corner of her lips before she kissed the grin off the older woman's face.

"I want to hear it though." Regina pulled back slightly, her own hands coming up to hold Emma's face tightly between her palms. Green eyes fluttered when Regina caressed a thumb along the scar there, feeling every bump and groove of the sliced flesh from the corner of pink lips all the way to her right temple. There was wonder in Regina's gaze as her eyes tracked over her scar, every minuscule scratch or blemish as if comparing the woman standing before her to the one she had seen off in the middle of an airport years ago. Emma knew she wasn't that woman anymore, no matter how much she wished it so. But when Regina pecked her scar and then her lips, rubbing their noses together with such intimacy it made Emma want to cry again, wishing for the past seemed ludicrous. Emma wanted the future. With Regina. Their family. "I want to hear all of it. Whenever you're ready."

"Okay."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: We're coming to the end of this emotional rollercoaster, but I've got an epilogue after this. Thank you for all your reviews, alerts, and favourites! You guys are seriously the best ever!

There were voices overhead. Emma couldn't make it out. She could barely open her eyes. She fought to pry her eyelids apart though it was a useless force since her surroundings were blurry. Bright. It was just all so bright. Voices again. Speaking. English? Arabic? Elvish?

Emma tried to move, but her whole body felt like it was filled with lead while an anchor sat atop of her chest as she sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Her ears were ringing. Her head was throbbing. The brightness dimmed at the edges until she let the darkness consume her once more.

Black blurs hovered overhead. Whispers. No. She flinched when they touched her. No.

"No," she groaned though the pained moan accompanied it masked her protest.

"Shhh." A voice. A woman's voice. Her eyes tried to track the sound, head whipping to and fro attempting to clear the blurs into something more clear.

Hands on her again. She flinched, whipping away successful this time when a clatter accompanied the quiet voices.

They were gonna hurt her again. Why couldn't they just let her die? Her arms flailed, her body numb and unfeeling, but hands kept her still as the same woman's voice calmed her movements. Wetness on her forehead. Sting in her hand.

"Shh," the voice repeated.

One blur became two, and whether Emma had just given up, resigned to remain paralyzed, or some instinct in her told her she was safe, she wasn't sure. She calmed. Her waving limbs shivered by her side, and the blonde was faintly aware she was on a soft surface. The blurs spoke to each other, and Emma squeezed her eyes shut willing them to come into focus.

"Emma." A voice, distinct, familiar, sounding like safety and comfort. "Emma."

Green eyes snapped open as the final remnants of Emma's dream got away from her. The time between the prison and Landstuhl had always been hazy. Months of her life a delirious and pain-induced blur she could never quite comprehend even through the numerous therapy sessions Emma had attended. There were always figures above her, touching her face, her arm, her leg. She admitted to Dr. Mitchell once that she could have sworn it was Regina and Henry, but her subconscious had been playing tricks on her for months before then.

She stared up at the ceiling she had never paid much attention to until what woke her had her snapping away. The warmth that had cocooned her in her sleep was gone as Regina was sitting up on the edge of the bed, her naked back tense as she hunched over with a rumpled bedsheet keeping her decency.

"Emma," Regina hissed quietly. Emma sat up enough to see that she was on a phone and shaking. "It's Emma, Dr. Hopper. I think I might be hallucinating, but it's never been this real before. Please give me a call when you get this—"

Dipping the bed with her weight, Emma jarred Regina from her telephone conversation as she whipped her head back, eyes wide as if she was a child caught stealing cookies.

"I'll call you back." Regina ended the call and lowered the phone into her lap, moving slowly as if Emma were an injured animal. "Hey."

"Hi."

Emma swallowed thickly as she sat up in the bed, tugging the duvet up to her chest as if she and Regina hadn't spent the last couple hours discovering each other's body. She had held Regina as the older woman sobbed and laughed into her neck, and eventually Emma joined her because that moment, hell that day, had been too surreal not to border on absurd. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be this easy. Not that this road had been easy. Her mind was warring again and all Emma could think of was how they spent their final moments of exhausted energy curled around one another, kissing the grins and fears off the other's face.

"Stop smiling," Emma had commanded in a teasing tone as her lips continued playing with Regina's. "I can't kiss you properly."

That had only made Regina's smile grow, but at that point, Emma's senses were flooded. The salty sweetness of her lips, memorizing every new beauty mark on tanned skin, drowning in Regina, it was all she cared about.

Emma's fingers tingled as her hand caressed down Regina's arm, flesh prickling with goosebumps under the pad of her thumb as the older woman shivered her appreciation. Regina's breath puffed against Emma's neck with each shudder, warming her skin and speeding up her pulse. Emma's ears drummed, and for the first time, it wasn't the numbing ringing after years of hearing bombs go off or gunshots firing just by her shoulder. It drummed to the tune of her heat beating wildly in her ear, but as her lips made its way down Regina's temple, kissing away the tears stained on dampen cheeks, then showing devotion to the older woman's collarbone, Emma could have sworn the drumming was coming from Regina. Their hearts pounding in tangent, adrenaline and emotion coursing through them in such a short time span it was all too consuming.

Then Regina had quieted, her breathy sobs turning to sighs as Emma painted Regina's neck with her lips, and the blonde had enough sense to glance up in the woman's tightened hold to see her eyes drifting drowsily.

"Close your eyes," the blonde whispered, kissing the lids shut. "Rest."

"I should be telling you that," Regina mumbled though she burrowed herself further into Emma's embrace. "I'm fine."

"You're tired." And though her insistence to Regina, Emma suppressed her own yawn as exhaustion, both mental and physical, took hold of her.

Still Regina shook her head, peeking an eye open as she brushed their noses in contentment. "No I'm not."

"Regina," she warned.

"Emma." The younger woman's eyes drifted shut when Regina kissed her softly. "I want to stay awake with you."

"I'm sleepy," Emma tried, a long strand of silken hair draped daintily between two fingers as Emma wondered how this woman continued to be so perfect.

"Sleep."

Emma chuckled, her laughter vibrating against Regina's jaw in lazy comfort. "Will you be here when I wake up?"

Short fingernails paused their raking along Emma's pale back. Regina's voice was laden with exhaustion but more certain than ever. "If this is a dream I don't want to wake."

Her statement was dramatic and intense, yet all Emma could think was that she couldn't agree more. The months, the years spent separated, had her heart aching every day, but it got her here, home. She let the bliss settle over her when she felt Regina's breathing even out against her chest, and within a second Emma was holding her tight, following her into sleep.

That had been only a couple hours ago, this amazed wonder and ravenous desire consuming their every thought, yet here they were acting as if they had just woken from an awkward one night stand with splitting hangovers and no recollection of the night before.

Emma sat up, silently turning to the bedside table to get her hand and catching sight of the time. Half past one. They had slept for a little over an hour. She attached her hand in place then leaned against the headboard, pulling the duvet up and over her chest. She was acutely aware that Regina had been watching her intently, and as she nestled into the pillows, she caught hesitance in chocolate eyes where only an hour earlier they had been filled with love. What happened between now and when they had fallen asleep was disconcerting. Kisses and hugs replaced with confusion and distance. All Emma could feel were Regina's eyes boring holes into her like she was a zombie. Regina hadn't moved from her spot yet. In fact, she clutched the bedsheet tighter to her, knuckles whitening in her grip.

Before Emma could ask what was wrong, Regina shook her head, nearly burying half her face in the bedsheet as she spoke muffled. "You're here."

"Yeah."

Suddenly Regina shot up from the bed and hastily moved to the hamper just outside her closet door and slipped on an oversized t-shirt. Emma's, in fact. The US ARMY shirt reached the top of her thighs, and though she usually would never re-wear an item of clothing that was already deposited into the dirty bin, her mind was whirring too much to care. Her back remained to Emma when she moved to her dresser and rummaged through her drawers. The mirror offered the blonde full access to the worry lines creasing on Regina's face as she tugged open the drawer and grabbed the first set of panties she could find. The brunette rushed to slip them on but stumbled in her haste, losing her balance from her right leg and hobbled to lean against the dresser for stability.

The trip would have been endearing, and three years ago, Emma would have been clutching her sides in laughter and endlessly teasing a flustered Regina, but now was not the time for laughter or teasing. She had no idea what it was the time for, but not that. So as Regina muttered to herself, scrambling to find some semblance of pants, Emma slid out of bed and dressed quietly.

This was it. The other shoe was dropping. One night—or afternoon rather—of passion didn't just erase three years of pain. She wished it would, but this wasn't a fairy tale. They weren't in a movie, or some book, or characters on TV. This was real life, and in real life, people move on, they grow up. Sometimes they grow up separately. Emma was all too familiar with that concept.

It could have been worse, she reminded herself as she slipped on her grey tee which had been caught between the bed and the bedside table. At least she had this last time. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she let one escape as the fabric draped over her face, wiping it away as her head broke through. She managed to find her underwear and had stepped into them when Regina's panic-ridden voice had her straightening and turning quickly.

"Where are you going?" The older woman strained, clutching a pair of leggings to her chest. Emma's eyebrows crinkled in confusion, offering only a flopping mouth and half a shrug before Regina was moved into action again. She dropped her leggings and ran her hand into her hair, holding it out of her face as she paced the length of the vanity and dresser. "I just—I just need a minute. I just—"

"Okay."

"I mean, you're here. This is—this isn't a dream, you're here, right?"

"Yes."

"You're alive!" Regina huffed and scoffed out a breath like she was deeming herself crazy. "You're—just—"

"I know."

"You're dead. They said you were dead."

"I know."

"But you're here. I mean, we—we just—"

"I know."

"Why are you doing that?" She snapped. Her sudden pacing had stopped just as quickly and the hand in her hair moved to rest on her waist. "Why are you so okay with everything? How is this even remotely normal to you? You—you're back from the dead, Emma."

"I know, Regina," she sighed and sat on the bed.

"You can't know! This isn't just something that happens every day!" She resumed her pacing, this time holding her stomach as her eyes tracked the fibres of the carpet wildly. "You're here. You're here. After so long, you came back." She stopped dead and directed her rant to the wide-eyed blonde. "And, and you've been here this entire time," she said with quiet realization. "This whole time you were so close, and you didn't call. You didn't call once. You didn't even send a letter. How could you not let me know that you were alive?!"

"Regina—"

"I know," she interrupted holding a palm up, her voice lowering an octave in partial understanding. "I know you were scared, but—one phone call, Emma. Just one."

"I couldn't, Regina," Emma implored taking a step closer.

"One thirty second phone call just telling me you're alive—"

"I should have, I know."

"But you didn't."

"I know!" Emma grounded out and smacked the bed with her hands. After a few deep breaths, she ran her fingers through her hair to comb out the tangles, using the time to get her bearings. Regina was right, she deserved an explanation a lot sooner than this. Emma would want one if the situation was reversed. But Regina wouldn't do something stupid. She was too smart, too calculating, and Emma was...Emma. Taking another breath, she diverted her gaze downward, willing the memories to leak through to her consciousness in careful consideration.

"I'll tell you everything," she promised. "I told you they were trying to keep me as a trade." She held up her prosthetic arm, the fingers moving as a wave for emphasis. "As soon as our car sped off, a couple guys grabbed me and dragged me to—"

"No—no that's not what I mean." Regina shook her head frantically. "I don't want you to tell me now."

"You wanted to know. I can tell you now."

"Don't tell me because I'm forcing you."

"Then what am I supposed to do to get you to calm down?"

"I don't know!" Regina shrieked. Her hands flew up by her face as her cheeks reddened, the vein in her forehead bulging. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air desperately. The prevailing ring of her yell permeated the room, mixing in with the sound of silence as they continued to stare at one another, fixed in this limbo neither knew how to escape from. "I don't know," Regina said quietly this time. "I'm just—"

"So confused," Emma finished for her meekly.

The brunette nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "It feels like a lifetime ago I was saying goodbye to you in an airport."

"It was."

"But—"

"I know," Emma finished imploringly.

Silence permeated the room once again. The afternoon light streaming in through the partially open curtain was the only audience to their silent foray. Dust particles danced in the sunlight, the only thing moving as the two women remained rooted on opposite sides of the room. The tension in the air thickened between them.

It had always been so easy with Regina. She had always been someone Emma could write to about anything and talk to for hours. In a world where Emma was literally tossed around, Regina had been the one constant in her life. If she lost that—Panic bubbled deep in her stomach causing her lungs to constrict painfully. No. No, she couldn't lose her. They were supposed to be a family. They were supposed to be normal. Her gasp broke through the silence. Regina whipped her head up.

Emma had never been the calm one. She reacted. Her decisions were rash. Foresight was thrown out the window. Regina was always the one with soothing words on her lips and warmth in her arms whenever Emma felt inadequate. But right now, neither of them were ready to fill that role.

Emma took a steadying breath, willing her shaking hands to calm. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Regina slumped down beside Emma, her hands shaking just as fiercely as the blonde's.

"It's not the same." Emma ducked her head, her voice as small as she felt.

With a resigned sigh, Regina nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault I went missing," Emma said with a dry laugh as she shifted uncomfortably. The lump in her throat made her want to choke.

"No." Regina's hand was on her thigh, and Emma chanced a side glance to the brunette to see wide, desperate eyes. "No. This isn't your fault either."

"We can't pretend?" Though Emma phrased it as a question, they both knew it to be fact. No longer could they simply imagine the other away on business, believing their phone calls that ran late into the night to be check-ups as Emma settled into a hotel room after a big business meeting. Too much had happened. Way too much. And though Emma mentally prepared herself for this worst case scenario, now that it was here, it felt like her world has come crashing down.

Her fingers found Regina's as they laced together on top of her thigh, hoping for one last moment of make-believe. Okay, she told herself as her eyes watered for a loss she couldn't quite put a name to. Okay okay okay.

"I don't want to pretend anymore," Regina admitted quietly. "I want us to be real for once."

"Can we?" The last shred of hope in Emma had her begging, pleading they could attempt to salvage whatever relationship they could, but the voice inside her head kept saying it was too little too late, and all she wanted to do was beat the crap out of that voice.

Slowly Regina lifted Emma's hand with her own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, all the while locking gazes with the younger woman next to her. "Yes."

The coffee machine hissed as a fresh brew filtered into the pot. The heady aroma of the Colombian mix wafted through the kitchen as both women remained concentrated on their delegated tasks. Once they had dressed and made their way downstairs, their rumbling stomachs interrupted any conversation they were set to have, so Regina, ever the hostess, began making paninis for lunch while Emma had put the coffee on. The blonde was stilted in her movements, feeling the familiarity of moving throughout the kitchen with ease with this woman bubble just beneath the surface of her skin but refrained from diving headfirst into it because they made a promise. Gone was the past, and now they had to move forward. Despite her mind telling her that this wasn't her kitchen anymore, muscle memory took over when she poured coffee into Regina's favourite mug, still positioned on the second level shelf, and spooned in two sugars and cream. Regina usually took it black whenever she was working or stressed, but Emma had once seen Regina prepare it this way, and instinct kicked in.

Emma set the coffees on the island before briefly departing the kitchen to rummage through the bag she had brought in. By the time she returned with her hand-like prosthetic in place of the former, Regina had already plated the sandwiches and sat adjacent to the free place setting. Emma caught the slight falter of Regina's movements when the brunette had glanced up quickly to see Emma enter and stare again before moving her gaze to the aesthetically accurate limb of her right arm. The blonde shrugged then moved to Regina's left and sat, quietly thanking the older woman for the food.

Emma knew they had to talk. It was why they had left the bedroom. It was too easy to fall into ignorance whenever they got too close to one another and a bed was right there, but now that they were seated next to each other, the afternoon sun brightening up the ridiculously yellow kitchen, Emma was at a loss for words. Where should she begin? How should she begin?

She chanced a covert glimpse at Regina and found her gaze locked on Emma's hand, so lifelike even Emma sometimes forgot she had the barest of feeling in it. Washing down her bite with a gulp of her coffee, she cleared her throat and gently moved the fingers of her prosthetic. "It looks really nice, but it's not as easy to manipulate as the other one is."

Regina's eyes snapped up at Emma's words, and her cheeks tinted pink at being caught. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was your actual hand."

Regina's eyes darted back to the prosthetic without her conscious approval, and Emma figured that was a good place as any to start.

"You heard the story of what happened that day. With Neal? I got a bullet in the hand. It hurt like a bitch. I obviously didn't have the best medical care, so it started to get infected." She scooted closer and held up her hand and outlined the back of her prosthetic with her index. "All down here it was purple and green, the whole hand eventually swelled, and there was puss and blood and something else."

"Emma." Regina looked nauseous as she stared horrified.

"I made a sling for it out of a sleeve, but eventually the pain got to be too much. The report says when they found me, my belt was tightened so tight around my arm, the metal was piercing into my skin, and my hand was practically dead at that point." The prosthetic lay limp between them until Regina caressed a finger over the smooth, skin-like feel of Emma's wrist, following the junctures of the mechanics just beneath its surface until her hand rested firmly on top of the blonde's, their fingers clasping in unison. "It slowed down the infection from spreading any further than it could have."

"I'm so sorry," Regina breathed out, squeezing her fingers tightly with Emma's.

"It's okay," the blonde smiled and squeezed back. She leaned back on her barstool though kept their fingers interlocked.

"I'm sorry," Regina repeated with a shake of her head because no matter what the past three years had been for her, she couldn't even begin to process what it was like for Emma. "I'm so sorry."

"You said that," Emma said with a gentle laugh that only made Regina sigh and lean closer toward the younger woman. Their food sat forgotten on the island as Emma turned in her chair to fully face the older woman. "I was in Brookhaven for a lot of reasons. I have nightmares. Probably worse than what you ever saw. They pop up pretty regularly still, but I've learned to cope with it."

"You were fine just earlier," Regina observed.

"Yeah," Emma realized. "But I might not be tonight. It gets pretty scary in there."

"I'm sorry," Regina repeated again, and at Emma's incredulous look, she clarified. "For yelling at you. And for snapping at you when you woke up."

Emma smirked. "If you didn't snap at me, then you wouldn't be the Regina I know and love."

The tease made the brunette grin bashfully, and with the afternoon light silhouetting Regina's face, Emma was struck by how much she missed seeing that smile. She wanted nothing more in the world than to press her lips against them. Regina beat her to it, and Emma was almost surprised feeling the familiar yet foreign sensation as their lips moulded together.

"I love you." Regina sighed out a breathy laugh against Emma's lips, and the vibration made the blonde's heart flutter as her own face sported a matching grin. "I've only said that to you on paper."

"You said it this morning," Emma said with a pleased blush to her cheeks.

"I know. And I mean it," Regina said sincerely cupping Emma's cheeks in between her palms.

"What do you mean on paper?"

It was Regina's turn to blush as she fully sat back on her seat. "Dr. Hopper has been helping me, I guess, grieve. I must have written hundreds of letters to you by this point."

"You really thought I was dead," Emma said in wonder.

"What else did I have to go on to say otherwise?" Regina asked gently.

"I don't know." Emma glanced down, fiddling with her hands in her lap. "I was just so absorbed with my own problems, that I didn't give a lot of thought as to what was happening over here and what you were going through."

"They're not problems," Regina began, taking Emma's hand in her own when the blonde scoffed. "I mean, they are, but it's not like you stubbed your toe and ran away. I get it. Or at least I'm starting to. But don't downplay your success, my love."

Emma chuckled this time as she placed her free hand over their joined ones. "I haven't heard you say that in so long."

"My love," Regina purred as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss against Emma's jaw.

Emma's hand fell to her waist as they met in the middle, both leaning up off their stools as their lips searched for each other once again. Before they could touch, a thought crossed Emma's mind, halting both their movements. "How long have you been seeing Archie for?"

"Two years," Regina answered pulling back slightly. "I may have reverted to my eighteen-year old self when I found out the news."

"I'm—"

Regina pressed a finger to Emma's lips. "I think we've both exhausted our apologies for the day. Where were you before Boston?"

"Germany. Military hospital. My body basically went into shock during the amputation surgery. It shut itself down and I was in a coma state for seven months."

"A coma?" Regina gasped, gripping Emma's arms tightly.

They sat back down, fingers linked again, and though both women knew they wanted nothing more than to rekindle their flame, to touch and be touched, and revel in the presence of their found love, the journey ahead of them had barely been paved. With every recollection told, a new stone was turned. Emma had been preparing for this moment, working so hard to fight against the demons in her mind to remind herself how far she had come, and now that it was here, sharing it with a person who wasn't paid to sit there and listen, sharing it with Regina, Emma felt a weight shift from her shoulders as Regina listened patiently.

Emma found it easiest to explain the story behind every scar — her confinement with Nabil and being pitted against him like a caged animal, the bullet graze on the back of her calf that acted up on odd nights, even going as far as retrieving the postcard she had held onto for years. Emma once thought she had more than enough baggage as a foster child turned military soldier, but carefully reading Regina's expression as it ranged from horror to anger to sympathy had Emma questioning when enough would be enough. But then Regina led Emma by the hand into her study and retrieved a box hidden in her left hand side drawer. Emma didn't notice that her headshot was proudly displayed by Regina's laptop encased in a golden frame. She was too fixated on the bundles of letters wrapped neatly in the box, letters she had never seen before. Nearly every letter written by Regina to Emma had the brunette saying she missed her, loved her, and wished her home. Tear tracks still stained some of the older writings, and Emma felt her heart clench as she read Regina's words pleading her return.

Emma barely had enough time to truly register the emotions the older woman must have gone through before Regina was tugging her away again, upstairs this time, bypassing the master suite and turning the knob for Henry's room. Emma gasped out loud at the change in it. Although neat, the room that had once been laden with dragons and knights, was a tidy mess of comics piled precariously on a bedside table and a new computer desk. Stray sneakers peeked out from under the bed, and inside the partially open closet were clothes hanging from hangers and a laundry basket with t-shirts slipping over the lip. Emma almost wanted to cry because the four-year old she had hugged in the airport was a big kid now, and though she had seen the picture of Henry standing beside the sapling of his tree, the tears welled just the same.

"Where is he?" She questioned, taking in the blue plaid bedspread that had once boasted Sheriff Woody and Buzz Lightyear.

"Boy Scouts." Regina was oblivious to Emma's reaction as the brunette scurried over to the desk and reached up to the shelf hanging over it to pluck a book from its contents. The large leather-bound tome was thicker than the spine allowed, and judging from the creases of it and the wrinkles at its corners, it was well used.

Silently, Regina handed the book to Emma. It was weighty in her hands, and Emma almost thought she had been given that book of fairy tales, but when she flipped it open to the front page, realization set.

In the corner of the thick card stock written in Regina's delicate script was December 2005. The letter that followed, claiming this present to be Emma's own personal photo album to document her life with her newfound family made her breathing shallow and the tear she was holding back fall. Regina had saved this — a Christmas gift meant for Emma upon her arrival home — for years. She flipped to the middle of the book and skimmed through its pages, not registering that she had dropped on the bed in disbelief as pictures of the last three years filled its pages. Pictures Emma remembered pinning to the wall of her cot were pasted in the pages. Leaves collected on camping trips were glued accompanying sloppy writing telling Emma that Henry had caught a fish. The lump in her throat doubled.

"Why—you were moving on." Emma stood up suddenly as dread filled her. "You were moving on, and I came back, and I fucked up all your progress. I should go. I should—"

She took two steps to leave the room before Regina tugged on her wrist and pulled her back so they were flush against one another. Emma could barely keep eye contact with the older woman. How could she when she had never felt more selfish than in that moment? Emma was a runner. That's what she was good at. But of course, she even messed that up too by coming back a broken mess and—Regina's lips were on hers, pressing firmly as if to physically stop the voices in Emma's mind from filling her with doubt.

"Yes, we were trying to," Regina admitted quietly, still pressed against Emma's pliant body. "But your family has been waiting for you, and if you honestly believe that we would prefer a phantom image than the real Emma Swan, then I will accompany you to the doctor to have a further look at your brain."

Emma had always prepared for the worst case scenario. She was used to fighting through storms and armies and trudging through life like she was waist-deep in a trench of molasses. But Regina, with her wide, wonderful eyes accepting her home, promising to be there every step of the way was too overwhelming to be real. But it was, and even though the hard part wasn't over — hell, it was just beginning — nothing in the world felt easier.

"We tried to let go," Regina continued. "Actually, Dr. Hopper tried to pry open my grip on you, and I may have lashed out on him a handful of times. But you never once stopped being a part of this family."

Emma laughed, hysterically so, as her shoulders shook in Regina's arms. It was too much, too overwhelming. But it was everything she needed to hear. Her laughter bordered on madness as she finally choked out the first coherent thought that came to mind. "You—you're awesome."

Regina matched her absurd laughter because she felt anything but, yet coming from Emma, she had to admit: this was awesome.

They talked for hours, moving through various rooms in the house as if christening every room with their togetherness because though it was so familiar it was all so new. Emma revealed most of what she had been through as best as she could, answering Regina's questions and accepting her kisses as if that alone could take away the memories. Twice Emma had to take a break when she felt a phantom pain in her head and hand, but Regina had been patient, filling the gap with trips she and Henry had taken and how much had happened over the years.

When Regina woke this morning to drop Henry off at his overnight retreat, never would she have thought that today of all days every wish and prayer she had made over the years would be answered. But there Emma was, fingers forever clasped with hers, alive. The realization, though not new yet still amazing, would strike Regina at odd points throughout the day and halfway through a story or as they walked from room to room, Regina would stop them and kiss Emma. Emma shared the same sentiment as she would continuously tug Regina closer to her, as if their bodies just couldn't get enough.

Daylight gave way to evening, and the emotional exhaustion of the day finally caught up to both women as they sat in the living room, combing through the box of Emma's belongings Regina had kept in her room. Emma shared the pictures she had drawn in rehab. Regina presented the entire collection of her letters. As their words shook and their bodies tingled with every minuscule yet promising touch, their minds gave way to sleep as they curled together on the couch.

Emma couldn't remember the last time she had fallen asleep so soundly with no haunting memories or waking every hour just to grab her bearings, but with a throw pillow tossed over her face, and Regina nestled against her body like she was the comfiest mattress in the world, Emma felt safe, secure, carefree. A touch of a smile graced her lips as she gripped Regina tighter, breathing in slowly and exhaling deeply as not to wake her.

Their talk today just only skimmed the surface, but to know that they had another chance lifted the burden off their shoulders. Emma was nowhere near perfect when it came to her rehab, and Regina's progress had been flipped on its head completely, but they were never one for normal circumstances, and if this was one more obstacle in their course, then at least they had the chance to do it together.

Together.

They were finally together again. That touch of a smile bloomed across her face as she shimmied her head from the pillow and pressed a kiss to the top of Regina's head.

"Go to sleep," Regina muttered groggily, fisting Emma's shirt in a tight grip and buried her head into Emma's neck.

"Okay." She closed her eyes, her palm drawing lazy circles on Regina's back under her shirt, and let her mind relax. She'd wake again because this was no dream.

She woke less than an hour later with a start when she heard the latch of the front door unlock and open and heavy boots shuffle at the bottom of the foyer. By the time her senses fully kicked in, a voice boomed overhead.

"What the hell, Regina?!"

Both women sat up sharply, the pillow sliding off of Emma's face and bopping the top of Regina's head before falling to the floor. August, standing paralyzed above them, gawked at Emma like he had seen a ghost.

"No way."

Emma squinted up at him as Regina, still sleep-ridden, shook her head and pushed them back flat on the couch. "Go away," the brunette muttered.

"Emma!" August screamed in joy. Being physically pulled from sleep was not something Regina had anticipated as she yelped when August grabbed her arm and pulled her off Emma, all but tossing her to the other side of the couch before swooping in and grabbing Emma by the waist. She almost evaded his attempts, but seeing the grin on his face, she let him lift her up like a rag doll and swing her onto her feet in a bone-crushing hug. "Are you freaking kidding me?! Emma!"

"You're suffocating me," she groaned.

"Good!" He squeezed tighter before finally setting her down on her feet. Regina grinned, smiling fondly at them as she repositioned herself into the crook of the couch. August beamed at her, holding her face between his palms as he scanned her with wild eyes. Then he flicked her temple hard. "Where the hell were you?"

"Ow!" She pressed a hand against her temple and used her free one to push him back.

He ignored that and moved to hug her again. "Jesus Christ, you're back. I knew it. I knew it. I told you, Regina!"

"You did," Regina agreed quietly as she stood.

All Emma could do was laugh as she hugged her brother back, and when he finally released her just an inch, Regina pressed an arm to her shoulder and motioned to the entrance of the room. Leaving them alone, August held Emma at arm's length and gave her another examination. Then he smacked her shoulder. "Idiot!"

"Dude!" She rubbed her right shoulder as a low hum of pain shot through to her elbow and phantom hand.

"Shit." August finally took in her state and leaned in to help massage the muscle there. When she hissed and stretched out her arm, his voice softened. "Jesus, Em."

"Just a scratch," she offered lamely with a shrug before squinting at him again. "Where's your beard?"

"Where's your hand?"

"Probably in a landfill by now," she answered smartly.

"Why are you wearing a cosmesis?" August examined her harness and the flesh-like covering of her hand. "You can't do shit with this."

"My other one's upstairs."

"Upstairs?" He waggled his eyebrows knowingly, earning a blush and eyeroll from the blonde. He shook his head unable to keep his eyes off her. "You gave us a scare."

Her smile wavered. "I was pretty scared myself."

He brought her in a hug again, more gently this time, and she rested her head against his shoulder with a content sigh. "You're not going back there."

"Well, I don't know…" Emma teased in his arms.

He shook his head with a firm command. "You're staying, soldier."

She grinned up at him. "Yes, sir."

It had been a day. That was all Emma could think. One wonderful, surreal, yet very real day. This morning Emma was in Boston getting discharged from rehab, and now she was in Storybrooke, with Regina, and even August now. She had touched Regina. They had talked. They had fought. They had cried. But she was here. She was home.

Emma sat around the kitchen island with Regina's hand in hers on the counter as August whipped around the kitchen making them dinner. An Italian aria blared from a counter radio as he sang loudly and strangely in-tune, and for all his fluttering around in the kitchen, all he had made were chicken burgers and fries. Watching as he moved so freely around the kitchen without Regina having to lift a finger made the blonde ache for the time she had missed. Regina had mentioned August had lived with them for a spell, but seeing the evidence of their comfortableness made it all the more real. But she had now. She had the future. And it was all worth it.

That night after she bid August goodbye with a tight-gripped hug and a few kisses to his cheek, she followed Regina back up the stairs. Like earlier that day, Regina had led Emma by the hand; constantly looking back to make sure she was following. As they entered the master suite, the thickness in the air was different. It wasn't charged with sexual desire or wrought with awkward tension. The undercurrent electricity between them let them know, once again, that this was real. All their waiting had been for this moment. Without words, their lips instinctively sought one another in the moonlight as their fingers slid against flesh. Every wound between them had been ripped open, raw for the world to see, but it was just them, nursing each other back to health, bracing each other as their clothes fell and their moans mingled. Their bodies touched. Their sweat mixed. And as they found release, falling into the pleasure the other was bringing, they fell into the knowledge that this wouldn't be the last time. This was their beginning.

For a population of less than three thousand people, it was bizarre to see how much changed in three years. The structures within the town remained as timeless as the small hamlet itself, but the next afternoon when Emma and Regina slid into the Benz and began the short journey into town, Emma almost forgot that the people weren't as stagnant.

She wasn't surprised to find people out and about enjoying the cool May weather, but when she saw Mary Margaret and David Nolan, of all people, holding hands so freely as they walked down the street, her eyes snapped open and her lips parted in shock. Emma sat up in her seat and strained her neck to get a better look, but Regina just scoffed and said, "Kat deserved better."

They were gone before Emma could question it, and then they found themselves in the downtown core. Granny's Diner was getting busy with the lunch rush. She wondered if they still sold apple pancakes? She smirked when she saw Ruby out on the patio. The waitress, still as leggy as ever, was already taking advantage of the warmer weather sporting her cutoffs and was grinning at a family as she bent down to pick up a toddler reaching her stout arms up at her.

"Hey," Emma said in wonder. "That's—that's Ashley and—Jesus is that her kid?"

"Alexandra," Regina nodded. "She has a tiny crush on Henry. It's adorable."

And though she had seen him hours earlier, Emma's eyes were drawn to the Volkswagen she hadn't seen in years as August stepped out of it, clasping the back of an older man who met him outside the shop. "That's Marco?"

Regina nodded again as she slowed the vehicle and turned left. "He also heads the support group I attend."

"You think it's safe out there?" Emma joked as Regina pulled up into the empty parking lot where the Boy Scout troop was set to arrive. The tease was meant to be light-hearted, but in the bubble they had created in the past 36 hours, somewhere deep inside Emma was worried that it was going to pop. It was Sunday. Emma was discharged. Regina didn't have to work. Henry was coming home soon. But people change; she'd seen that first hand, and sure Regina had spent the better part of the last twelve hours convincing her that she was still very much a part of their lives, but anxiety couldn't be overruled in one night. She took a breath and continued navigating the slowly filling parking lot.

Regina made a show of looking out the windshield from under her visor curiously. "I see the Martians have decided to hold off on their attack for today."

Emma rolled her eyes and flicked at Regina's waist. The brunette turned and squeezed Emma's forearm encouragingly. "I know what you mean. But I know of one little boy who's been missing you something fierce."

Emma bit her lip, shifting in her seat in worry. "What if he's scared of me?"

"Why would he be scared?"

Emma scoffed and motioned to herself. She had opted on her hand-prosthetic for the trip rather than the steel mechanical one. Ease the kid into her return one limb at a time.

"He has me for a mother and August for an Uncle. You are like the Tooth Fairy to him."

"The Tooth Fairy is scary," the blonde muttered.

"It'll be fine," Regina promised with a kiss.

At the first sight of a yellow bus turning a corner, Regina motioned her head for Emma to step out of the Benz. Emma followed suit, ducking her head and shoving her arms deep into her sweater pocket. The blonde was used to blending in fairly well, keeping to herself when it was absolutely dire, but for whatever reason, she felt as if everyone's eyes were on her. It took her a full minute from when the bus approached and pulled into the parking lot to realize that the parents gathered there paid her no mind as they waved to their sons on the bus. She and Regina leaned against the passenger side of the car, waiting in the back for the Troop Leader to get off the bus first and help the driver retrieve the boys' duffels and bags from the underside storage. Every boy hopping off the bus was either blurry-eyed from staying up too late or energetic from the experience.

Emma felt Regina lean against her, silently supporting her as her eyes whipped over the heads of every boy descending. Her mind told her to look for a shaggy hair little boy with bangs in his eyes and rounded cheeks, but when she spotted him with her own eyes, her breath caught in her throat. Henry, his chocolate brown hair kissed by the sun and standing in all directions, followed his friend off the bus and walked to the growing mountain of duffels off to the side. His sweater was baggy for his lean frame, and his cheeks had thinned out over the years, but that dimple on the corner of his mouth was the same one that smiled up at Emma whenever she played soldier with him.

"Oh my god," Emma breathed, pushing off the car an inch to get a better look.

"I know." Regina grinned beside her. "I almost can't believe it myself."

"You let him go camping?" Emma asked genuinely surprised.

Regina glared at her, as if Emma's sudden input would have been helpful the day before, but Emma was too preoccupied with watching Henry dig through luggage to find his own. He was momentarily distracted by his friend waving goodbye to him before he finally found the overstuffed duffel that was two times his size. Regina squeezed Emma's wrist and pushed off from the car, walking forward to wave to Henry who had been looking around for his mother. He smiled and almost ran to her but remembered last second to keep his cool. The brunette mother stopped a distance away and crouched to the ground with her arms outstretched, and that was all the incentive needed for Henry to pick up his pace and nearly galloped into her arms.

Henry hadn't noticed where Regina had walked from, so it gave Emma a moment to get her nerves together because she had already faced Regina, so how hard could seeing Henry be? But watching them hug, his face nestled in the crook of her neck with matching smiles so similar genetics be damned, Emma felt like she was walking into Storybrooke for the first time all over again, eager to make a good first impression.

Be cool. Be cool. She shook out her arms and took a step away from the car. Regina was patting Henry down, no doubt inspecting him for any cuts or bruises. Aside from a few stray leaves she found stuck in his hair, he was fine. She took his duffel from him and strapped it over her own shoulder as he held up what looked to be a keychain made out of twine. Regina held it and looked over the details in amazement, pride written all over her face as Henry explained animatedly how he had made it. She listened attentively and nodded along, and when she returned the keychain to him, Regina cupped a cheek in her hand and leaned her head in close. She must have been whispering about Emma because Regina's head tilted back, and Henry's eyes darted behind his mother to glance at the yellow-haired woman leaning against his car. Henry was squinting at her intensely now before he returned his gaze to his mother, and Emma felt the knot in her throat tighten. Emma was the hero of Henry's dreams. She was his Knight — fighting dragons and saving Queens, his superhero — invulnerable and indestructible.

But she came home broken.

Regina stood now, taking Henry by the hand as the crowd in the parking lot began to disperse once children were matched with their parents. Emma wasn't prepared for this moment. She wasn't ready to see the uncertainty in Henry's eyes. There was nowhere to hide now even if Emma wanted to. When they were less than five feet away, Regina slowed her pace and released Henry who continued his walk towards Emma. His head was tilted to the side, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his chin was crinkled in thought as he stopped just short of her.

"Hey," Emma said after clearing her throat. She got down on one knee to his eye level and chanced a glance up at Regina who was a foot away, smiling encouragingly. "Hey, Henry. Remember me?"

"Hi." He looked at her warily as if wracking his brain for a face that wasn't quite matching up to hers.

"You're a giant," Emma grinned, reaching her hand up to touch his shoulder, hovering for a second, before deciding against it and dropping her hand back to her knee.

He caught the movement and tilted his head at her right hand, his brow crinkling further. She almost wanted to hide it and shove her hand deep into her pocket, but instead she held it up for him. "Looks like the mothership wanted me to join their league of cyborgs."

He touched her hand, bringing it up so their palms touched. Slowly his fingers slipped between hers as they curled around her knuckles. "You got hurt."

"Yeah." She gave a watery smile as her fingers curled just the slightest bit around his.

His free hand reached out and innocently traced the scar running down from her eye curving down to her lip until his fingers cupped the underside of her jaw. "Did that hurt?"

"Yeah," she admitted quietly. "Not anymore though."

"You came back to us, Emma." The knot in Emma's throat tightened as his quiet voice rang loudly in her ears. The sting behind her eyes burned as a happy tear fell from the corner of her eye. She nodded profusely, his hand warm against her cheek as a smile split across her face.

"Yeah. I did."

His arms engulfed her in a millisecond. She nearly collapsed against his weight, but her body held firm against him as she just continued to nod. Her choked sob caught in her throat, but that didn't stop the tears from flowing as he wrapped around her neck with a vice-like grip repeating the same sentence over and over. "You're home, Mama. You're home."

Emma couldn't form words, only holding Henry tighter and nodding into his shoulder until Regina crouched beside them and rested her forehead against their heads in quiet agreement. "She's home."


	27. Chapter 27

Okay last one  
Chapter 27

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: So we've come to the end of this journey. So one year and 24 chapters later, this supposed three-chapter mini story turned into this monster. A special thank you to stable-girl who, without the prompt, wouldn't have inspired this story (Sorry that it took on a life of its own!) Thank you for everyone who has stuck by through its ups and downs, those who recommended, read, and commented on this story. I am forever in your debt. Without further ado…

Saturday May 10 2014 – New York City – Sheraton LaGuardia East Hotel Conference Room

"Mr. Booth, how do you handle the strikingly different opinions people have held about your book? Some call you bold for bringing to life a successful lesbian relationship while others prove not so nice. It's stirring up quite the controversy in various communities such as the LGBT and even the military."

August grinned when cameras flashed in the small conference room as he sat at a table on a raised platform, the cover of his book blown up and displayed proudly behind him. Most people in his life hadn't given much thought whenever August had said he was writing a book or doing extensive research. He was always "writing a book" and If he wanted to hole himself in his apartment for days on end and randomly spend weeks away from Storybooke, then who were the townsfolk to say that the nomad should stay put. But he had made it. Seeing his name in print as the author of the story that consumed him for years and having it be successful was too good to be true.

Almost.

He mulled over the question he had heard countless times during his book tour but gave a show of rubbing his chin, contemplating his next words. "It's fairly obvious I'm a man, but the controversy you're referring to is the fact that I'm a man writing about two women falling in love. I've heard all the arguments: typical guy writing a sexualized lesbian relationship—which, if I may point out, is not all that sexualized; straight man writing for a community that he has no right to be in; former military man betraying the system he's supposed to represent. What do I say to these? I say to those people to go ahead and read or re-read the story because as a writer, I'm just looking to tell the best possible story, and The Next Mile was that. There are issues addressed in the novel that most people either won't touch or refuse to acknowledge. Not only is it about a female in the army, but she also happens to like women. The layers within that open up a world not many people realize is even there, and given the opportunities presented to me as a straight, white, ex-military man that you and many others have referred to, I was able to bring them into the light. Should it have been someone else far more involved in either community? Most definitely.

"I have to admit, the potential backslash I'd receive once the public took a look at the author behind the book made me a little hesitant to move forward, but that was also the thing to push me in the right direction to make sure the world knows that the generic boy-meets-girl love stories come in all shapes and sizes and sexes. I am nowhere near being completely capable to write about two women in a loving relationship, but the essence of the story itself was one that needed to be told."

The reporter nodded graciously and sat back down, typing notes onto her iPad. Off to the side, August's agent Malinda, an uptight Trinidadian woman in a skirt suit, severe bun, and vintage glasses who was more put together than a certain Mayor he knew, motioned to her watch, a gift from August from his first royalty cheque because although she was strict, she was a total sweetheart. Leaning forward into the microphone, he gazed out into the crowd of reporters, photographers, fans, and hecklers and smiled apologetically. "I've got time for one more question."

A flurry of hands rose up, reporters and bloggers all hoping to get in one more question for their piece before the moderator pointed to a young girl, college age with a streak of purple in her hair and her eyebrow pierced, looking more sheepish than what her eccentric appearance boasted. She gripped the proffered microphone in her hand, careful to avoid the envious gaze of the hotshot reporters as she cleared her throat and smiled up at August. "Hi, Mr. Booth. First I wanted to say that I love your book. I couldn't put it down once I picked it up. It was so refreshing to go into a bookstore and see on their bestsellers shelf right when you walk in a book that was about people like me."

"Thank you," August grinned. "And what's your name?"

"Sam. Samantha Chan."

"I'm really glad you liked it, Sam Chan."

Her cheeks tinted pink as she laughed lightly into the mic. "I was just wondering what your inspiration was when you were writing or even thought about writing?"

The smile that stretched across the author's face could only be described as smug. It was a question he had been asked numerous times, and the usual answer he gave some inquisitive reporter was that every love story should be told or that it was about time there was more representation in media. While true, and he stood firmly behind his belief, this time, as he grinned down at Sam Chan, his go-to reply was thrown out the window when Malinda motioned once again that time was up. "Well," August began wryly, "let's just say that I'm late for my inspiration's wedding."

August thanked his lucky stars that there were no plane delays and that the car he had requested to be waiting for him when he arrived in Portland appeared as soon as he stepped outside. He was smart enough to change out of his jeans and shirt and into his tuxedo in the plane's lavatory since by the time he was passing the Welcome to Storybrooke sign and speeding down to the marina, he was cutting it close to the ceremony. The parking lot wasn't necessarily a traffic jam, but the cars parked on the gravel nearly filled the entire lot. His dashboard clock ticked down another minute as August contemplated squeezing the hybrid into a space between a Camry and a station wagon. Thinking better of it, and severely debating just to ditch the vehicle and head up into the banquet hall overlooking the sea, August remembered himself and smirked as he pulled into the disabilities parking by the main entrance and slapped his sticker on the dash.

He bypassed the outer stairs where a few guests were milling about on the top level patio balcony either having a smoke or catching up. The ceremony was set to start in less than ten minutes, and already he could hear multiple voices scolding him for almost being late. Whipping back the main doors by the foot of the stairs, August was greeted with the cozy bottom floor of the banquet hall, a room that was all wood furnishing and trophy cases of the yacht club that met there. All around the room on side tables were small flower vases holding red and purple roses illuminated by an LED light at the base of the vase. Photographs of Emma and Regina and even Henry were hung up on the walls in perfectly captured moments while another picture of the couple bordered by six inches of blank space now scribbled in with guests' well wishes and congratulations stood on an easel just off to the side of the entrance. In the center of the room was a grand staircase leading to the second floor of the banquet hall. It was illuminated by fairy lights wrapped around the railing and ornately decorated with purple tulle ribbon with red flowers embedded into it. August almost stopped to admire the view since he hadn't been able to make it to the rehearsal dinner, but he needed to find Emma's dressing room and quickly. Turning haphazardly, he yelped as he knocked into a body. Curses flew in the air from both parties.

"Watch it, mate!"

A brash dismissal was bubbling in his throat before he got a good look at just who he had bumped into. A woman, short, fair skin, and auburn hair pulled back in a messy bun with tendrils framing her face was holding a flower arrangement carefully between her hands. She muttered to herself as she grumpily reorganized the red and purple calla lilies, none too quietly insulting those who couldn't bother to look up as they walked. A few stray petals fell from the arrangement and fluttered onto her black skin-tight dress that was shorter than it was appropriate. Emma could wait, August decided.

"Sorry," he ducked his head bashfully and flashed a crooked smile. "I've got my head on backwards."

She finally looked up from the arrangement and none too subtly raked her eyes over his tailored tuxedo, the visible royal purple vest and matching bow tie. A smirk curled around her burgundy painted lips. "Are you late or lost?"

Her Australian accent was unmistakable now, and it made August take another step closer. "A bit of both. I'm the Man of Honour, and I can't even appear on time."

Accented Beauty laughed, and it was a deep, mischievous chuckle that made August slightly glad he was coming in a little late. "I take it you're the blonde one's Man of Honour. She's in the room down the hall and to your left."

He turned to look behind him as she pointed, but when he quickly looked back to thank her she was already out the main door and turning onto the outside stairs. Through the windows, she smirked at him and motioned her head for him to get a move on. August chuckled to himself and jogged toward Emma's dressing room, making it just in time for the door to whip open and present the judging face of Ruby in a purple knee-length dress holding a bouquet of red roses.

"You're late." The brunette glared as August leaned in to kiss her cheek and step pass her.

"I like to make an entrance." He nodded and clapped Neal's shoulder who was sitting on a chaise in the corner wearing a similar tux. "Where's Emma?"

"August?" Emma's voice, light yet confident, echoed from behind a curtain. He stepped past the nook that housed a vanity which held a hair curler and more cosmetics than he'd ever seen to reach the curtained area just beside it. He knocked on the wall before popping his head in when she beckoned his entrance.

The grin on his face was nothing compared to Emma's.

August had only seen Emma in a dress a handful of times, the more recent being this past Christmas at Storybrooke's annual Christmas gala where the former soldier donned a red long-sleeve cocktail dress and grinned happily beside her wife. Of course, neither Emma nor Regina could wait as soon as same-sex marriage was legalized in Maine. It was romantic, really, when August had heard the story the evening after they had appeared in front of a judge and signed their marriage certificate. Emma had woken Regina at the crack of dawn, and though still half asleep, Regina had known exactly what the younger woman was going to say.

"Marry me," Emma had whispered into a kiss with wild eyes and no ring and just sheer love pouring through her.

"Yes," Regina had nodded, tugging Emma to her and back into bed, muttering about how the marriage office wasn't open for another four hours yet.

They had been officially married for over a year now, but reaffirming their commitment to one another for their friends and family to see was something they had planned the moment they became Swan-Mills. August had given them hell that he wasn't there to witness the official union between the two women, but standing before Emma mere minutes before she was to walk up those stairs and tell the world how much she loved Regina, well, he could hold his tongue on that one.

Emma stood in the small curtained off nook beside a cushioned chair. Her hair waved down her shoulders in loose curls and half pinned up with a rhinestone flower-shaped brooch. Make-up had never been a priority for the young woman who never had use of it growing up and found it impractical during her deployment, but the light foundation and pale pink eyeshadow around her eyes made her glow. The scar running down her cheek had minimized only minutely over the years, but it was nothing compared to the blonde's megawatt smile. Her dress was fairly simple and lacked the extravagance most brides put into their wedding dresses, but for Emma, simplicity was all she could ask for. Eggshell in colour, the bottom layer was a satin shift reaching her ankles with the top being a lace overlay, the design matching the flower pendant in her hair. The lace draped over the satin, following the v-neck curve of the bodice yet covered Emma's shoulder. August knew that she was still self-conscious at times about her prosthetic, but she looked like she didn't have a care in the world beaming back at him. The only jewelry on her was a circle pendant nestled gently against her collarbone that said more than any diamonds or pearls could ever attempt.

Tears welled up in his eyes as his breath caught in his throat. This. This was too good to be true. His baby sister was getting married. For over fifteen years he had watched this stubborn teenager grow into the beautiful, strong woman before him, but now he was standing in front of her on her wedding day looking like—hell, winning the lottery couldn't even hold a candle to the joy radiating off Emma's face.

"Well?" She asked hopefully, picking up a small arrangement of purple calla lilies from the chair in the corner to add to her look.

A tear slipped, and Ruby teasingly nudged him further into the room to get his feet moving. Wordlessly he stood in front of her, and with a gentle push of his finger, turned her around slowly. Reaching just past her to the chair, he scooped up the clip that held her veil, carefully extending the chiffon material until it flowed to the middle of her back. Precise fingers clipped the veil just below the brooch, and as August gently fanned out the material, Emma turned slowly in his arms with a watery smile.

"You," he said earnestly with a kiss to her forehead, "are tied for first for most beautiful bride here."

Emma laughed with a shrug. "Second best."

"Jesus, you're whipped already," August groaned.

Emma laughed again and pulled him into a hug which August was quick to return. "I was worried you weren't gonna make it."

"And miss the chance to see my baby sister make the best decision of her life?" August rapped his knuckle gently against her chin. "Never."

"We're starting soon, guys." Neal called, followed by the door opening allowing the faint sounds of instrumental music playing from the upper level to filter below.

August offered his arm, grinning when Emma laced hers through it, then parted the curtain. "Let's go make it official."

Growing up, Emma was never the type of child to throw a pillow case over her hair as a makeshift veil and make a toilet paper bouquet, gliding down an imaginary aisle to her Prince (or Princess) Charming. In fact, she had her funeral more mapped out than her wedding because at least that one she was guaranteed.

Writing to Regina changed everything.

For nearly thirteen years, the lives of Regina Mills and Emma Swan had been intertwined so carefully it was as if the sisters of fate themselves had weaved their lifelines together. The last five had been an emotional rollercoaster for the small family. Not only did Emma continue to suffer from her PTSD, but Regina, and Henry by extension, had their paths to acceptance cave in with Emma's presence. Neither Mills had complained about it, even though there were times when Emma feared they would resent her for it. Dr. Hopper had voiced his concerns about their seemingly hasty reunion, but the family was more than ready to take any necessary steps to know each other once more.

Therapy sessions—individual, couple, and family—were attended every week. Henry had stopped his sessions six months after Emma's return, the child at the stage where the magic in miracles was still in arms' reach, and even their couples' therapy had dwindled down to near non-existent just last year. However, every week for almost four years, Regina drove with Emma to a therapist in Portland more trained to help Emma transition into the world once more after her secluded stay in Brookhaven. Most visits, Regina would sit in the waiting room, nervously fidgeting and disregarding the book she would always tote with her only for Emma to come out emotionally drained or distant during the ride back. Hours' worth pouring over guide books, internet searches, and talking with Archie opened up Regina's communication so that she could support the soldier whenever she needed.

The anniversary of her capture still proved hard for both women, and some nights Regina would wake up sharply and shake Emma in turn if only to see her eyes open and her chest rising, but the Christmas music Henry blared around the house and the mistletoe August would none too subtly leave hanging helped relieve the instinctual anxiety that took over. Over time, Emma continued seeing the good doctor every few months. Touching base with him and getting affirmation that she was still on the right track was all she needed whenever fears and insecurities swept over her that were too much for either her or Regina to deal with on her own.

Despite the hardships, they were attached to each other's side through it all. On the nights when Emma's nightmares got the best of her, Regina was there with a soothing palm to her face reminding her that she was safe. When Regina would be overwhelmed with stress and lashed out on everyone around her, sometimes opening up old wounds in her blind fury, Emma would pull her close, massage her shoulders and remind the older woman they were together now.

They dated again. Dinners, plays, even returning to the drive in on their revival nights. It was tentative at first, like fanning a dying flame, cautious that too much force would put it out, but they got to know each other once more. They fought, more often than usual, because Regina was a tad too protective whenever Emma stepped out the door, and Emma was still quite stubborn in her need to be strong in front of her family. For every argument, they loved twice as hard because time had been stripped from them, and wasting it was a hard lesson learned. There were family road trips to Quebec; cheering at Henry's Boy Scout ceremonies; matching Halloween costumes as Jim Hawkins, John Silver, Captain Amelia, and Doctor Doppler. Making up for lost time became their favourite pastime.

The family that Emma craved, the family Regina ached for, came together when Henry was ten. He had very formally sat Emma and Regina down at the kitchen table and handed out booklets to both of them with pictures and anecdotes outlining why exactly he should be adopted by Emma, if that was okay, of course. Emma smirked at his spunkiness but the pleased grin on her face gave way to her true emotion. Regina, loving she had raised such an organized little man, kissed his temple and looked to the blonde in question, silently backing up the boy's claim.

Henry had officially become the first Swan-Mills by the end of the summer.

Call it fate, good timing, or just plain luck, the unadulterated happiness overwhelming Emma to the core made everything they had gone through—every bullet, every letter, every second spent apart—worth it.

Today, she was able to tell the world that she loved Regina, and no one could stop her.

Emma waited just inside her change room and shook with excitement as Ruby exited the room and made her way up the stairs. No doubt Henry, their ring bearer though the teen liked to be called the Best Groomsman, was already up the stairs and waiting by the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean. A beat passed and heels clicked on the stairs. Tina, Emma guessed. After another few seconds, Neal left with an encouraging squeeze to her bicep.

"Almost," August whispered in an attempt to ease the excited agitation as they heard Kathryn make her way up the steps. He turned and winked at Emma, leaning over to tickle her cheek with his scruff in a quick kiss before moving forward out of the room, following Regina's Maid of Honour.

Her heart was pounding now and her cheeks hurt from grinning because in a few minutes, she would walk up those stairs and wait by their family as Regina made her way to her. Their relationship had been anything but conventional, and even their marriage held in front of a judge was a quick decision to grasp onto a good while it was still there, so this wedding had been as by the books as they could possibly get. Emma hadn't seen Regina since the night before, and separating on the eve of their wedding day was harder than it should have been. Ruby had housed Emma and Henry for the night, while Regina, Tina, and Kathryn had stayed at the mansion. Neither friends nor Henry could keep the women's phones away that night as they constantly checked in on one another and even snuck a phone call in before bed to wish each other good night. A quick phone call had turned into a whispered conversation about their excitement before they nodded off, falling asleep to the sound of each other's breathing.

Her trembling fingers shook in anticipation, but Emma reminded herself yet again that soon, she would be able to see her bride. The instrumental music waving in the bridal party shifted to a different tune. Inhaling deeply, Emma squared her shoulders and stepped out of the room. She had half a mind to look for Regina's dressing room, if just to shoot the woman a reassuring wink, but Emma moved forward, turning onto the middle of the stairs and carefully lifting the hem of her dress to step up. Breaching the halfway point, Emma ascended up into the main banquet hall that was lit up by paper lanterns in pale colours matching their theme. The guests stood, grinning her arrival, some already teary-eyed while others, Graham specifically, throwing her a thumbs up.

Emma giggled at that but kept her composure as she walked through the short aisle of guests. Over the years, it still felt surreal for the wanderer to have made so many close friends, but as she grinned at the men in their army blues sitting by the front, Emma wondered why she ever doubted the fact.

Henry, tall and lanky now at thirteen and wearing a suit that matched his Uncle August, stood on the right with Tina and Kathryn, smirking at her with a grin that was all teeth and dimples. Emma nodded to Archie, the host of the celebration, because both Regina and Emma deemed the man perfect for the role as he helped them heal on their still continuing journey. She stopped and stood beside August, Neal, and Ruby on the left before turning back toward the crowd.

"Ready, Ma?" Henry sidled up and whispered into her ear.

She winked playfully at him then turned forward at the change in music, her grin faltering in wonder.

Regina ascended up the steps, and it just about stole Emma's breath away. She always knew the older woman was beautiful, even during that day she had nearly collided into her at the diner, but as Regina's head popped through the opening of the stairs, her eyes dead set on Emma's and a grin so wide it made the blonde's look like a wince, the only coherent thought running through Emma's mind was—wow.

Regina's hair was pinned up in a classic chignon bun as her bangs swooped to the right, framing her face and baring her shoulders, showing off the dog tag hanging from a silver chain around her neck. Emma, after receiving the pendant necklace Regina had kept safe for her all those years, saw her bare neck and sought to rectify it. Regina never took it off since.

Emma had always been a sucker whenever Regina painted her lips red and was basically goo when those lips smiled at her. Now was no different as Emma fought to remain standing by the window, counting down every step it took Regina to get to her. Her dress was every bit as elegant as Regina sought to be. The champagne-coloured sweetheart mermaid-style dress looked painted on the tanned woman before it ruffled at the side of her waist and glided outwards in pleats. Months ago Emma had asked Regina what her dress looked like, but the brunette shook her head, reminding her that it was tradition not to see it before the wedding. The blonde had teased that if they showed up to their ceremony in the same outfit it would be her fault, but even as Regina looked absolutely stunning in her dress, all Emma could focus on was the woman inside it, approaching her, reaching out her hand to meet Emma's.

"Hi," Emma whispered planting their foreheads together for a second as she breathed in the other woman.

"Hi," Regina grinned meeting her for a quick kiss.

Archie cleared his throat and reminded them of the audience they had before them. When the guests were seated once more, he adjusted his spotted bow tie and spoke. "Good evening, friends and family of Regina and Emma Swan-Mills. I've been asked today to preside over their reaffirmation of love ceremony as they share with you their most beloved union. I was so thrilled when they asked me to host such a special event, and I couldn't have been more honoured to accept. I've been privileged enough to witness firsthand the trials and tribulations this young couple have gone through over the last few years, but along with the struggles, what I've seen is them bloom."

He took a moment to smile down at the lovers with a fondness of that of a father waving goodbye to their child as they head off for college. "Emma, Regina, you two have moved mountains, not only for each other, but within your own lives. Your love is strong, deep, and true, and I, along with everyone gathered here today, wish you all the best in your lives together."

Emma grinned and inched closer when she felt Regina squeeze her bicep before waiting for August to finish up. "The couple has prepared their own vows today, so—" At Emma's motioned head, Archie turned to Regina and signaled for her to speak. "Regina."

Regina handed her bouquet to Kathryn, motioning for Emma to do the same with August, before taking both her palms in her hands and squeezing tightly. The minuscule space between them allowed their hands to swing slightly, but all Emma could do was stare into the chocolate brown eyes that glittered so brightly it was as if flecks of gold spotted her irises.

"Emma," Regina began before cutting herself off with a contagious smile. Emma mimicked her expression and squeezed her right hand encouragingly. "Emma, just thinking back to how we first met, I remember saying that your family must be so proud of you. We are. You are a fighter, through and through. I cannot even begin to fathom why we made it here today. I certainly know how though. We are not conventional and our relationship has rarely been by the books, but it's worked for us. Not to say that it's been easy—" Regina rushed to clarify earning a laugh from the congregation and a half-hearted shrug from Emma. "God knows it hasn't been easy. But I know for certain that being with you—coming home to our family—it's all been worth it.

"I love you," Regina breathed confidently, her eyes watering just as Emma's glistened. "I love you so much. I love you when we're fighting. I love you when you're sad. I love you when you're gone." She sniffled as a few tears escaped streaking down her cheek before Emma brushed them away with an understanding smile. Regina captured her hand once more and brought both up to her chest and over her heart. "You will always have a home here. There will always be love, and acceptance, and support. There will be good days and bad days, but our days will be spent together. I am so proud to stand next to you, and I am so lucky to have a wonderful mother for our son all wrapped up in my best friend and wife. Whatever life throws our way, I know we can make it through."

Emma hadn't realized tears were streaming down her face until Regina cupped her cheek and soothed them away with a thumb. She caught her wrist and brought a delicate hand up to her lips and pressed kisses along her palm. Her body shook as tiny murmurs of excitement and astonishment coursed through her. Thirteen years later, and Emma still couldn't get over that Regina wanted her. But she knew it. She knew she did. Regina staying up late with her just because Emma couldn't sleep; Regina calling her throughout the day just to check in; Regina curling up beside her even on the nights when they argued about something petty like the dishes. Emma knew.

"I'm not usually this quick to cry," Emma defended meekly as she wiped a pinky under her eyes, careful of her make-up. A muttered 'yeah right' from August had the blonde playfully rolling her eyes, but she kept her gaze on Regina, bringing their joined hands down as she regained her composure.

"A wise man once told me," Emma began side glancing at August with a knowing smirk, "that there is no right or wrong time. Time is going to pass me whether I want it to or not, so make it the right time. That's why we married each other the second we could make it legal."

The crowd laughed again, and Regina nodded, supporting her claim.

"If I've learned anything in all my years walking this earth, it's that he was right. Take chances. Even when the stakes are high or the odds are against you, just try. Past Emma would have been so wary writing to a stranger, but that stranger turned into my friend, and then my best friend, and then my lover, and now my wife. Whether it's the right time or the wrong time, all I know is that I would spend a lifetime waiting for the chance to meet you, Regina."

A collective aww started by Ruby and eventually picked up by the bridal party and half the crowd sounded in the hall loud enough to make Emma blush and Regina giggle at her embarrassment.

"I know you'd do the same. Just look at us, you did do the same. I promise to be by your side always, even if you can't see me. I will be your rock, your confidant, your friend, and your loving wife for as long as you'll have me. I love you, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you and our son."

As if on cue, Henry stepped up between them and held up their rings in his palm. They took them and brought Henry into a tight hug before kissing the teen on his cheek. Without breaking eye contact, they slid their rings onto the other's finger, holding fiercely onto one another before coming together to meet in a sweet kiss.

The guests cheered as they followed the wives and their entourage down the steps to the lower hall where drinks and hors d'oeuvres were being served while the staff moved hastily to clear out the ceremonial chairs and make room for the dinner tables. August was the second to wish the couple congratulations, after Henry of course. Emma, Regina, and Henry had collapsed into one another in another embrace as soon they made it down the steps.

Pictures were taken. Old friends were reacquainted. New friends were made. Emma and Regina had never looked happier. The photographer had stolen the Swan-Mills family for pictures out by the beachside which gave August the chance he needed to navigate the crowd on the upper floor and find that Accented Beauty he had bumped into earlier.

Making a pit stop at the open bar first, he narrowly avoided running into Denise, Neal's three-year old, as she laughed and ran away from Aliya. He smirked that both girls had matching blue dresses and braided pigtails. He chuckled even harder when he remembered Neal complaining that his fingers were too big to braid the girls' hair, but Tamara basically forced him to learn.

Reaching the bar, he bumped into Ruby who, judging by her wild eyes, may have been part of the crowd already taking shots. Graham, now delegated to Co-Sheriff after a heart attack put him to desk work duty, was already cheering for another round.

"Lookin' spiffy, Sarge." She patted his shoulder and leaned her hip against the bar. "I'll even let you buy me a drink."

He laughed and motioned for the bartender to prepare two rum and cokes. "You're drunk already? It's barely even six."

"Please," the waitress scoffed and taking the proffered drink. "I'm just getting some liquid courage."

"Oh," he raised his eyebrows intrigued. "Who's the lucky man?"

A timid "excuse me" sounded between them, and August and Ruby parted when auburn hair and fair skin squeezed between them to reach the counter and ask the bartender for a soda. Smirking at his luck, August tried to duck his head and catch the eye of Accented Beauty, but she was determined on getting her drink. When she turned to make her leave, that's when August noticed Ruby had been staring at her with the same intrigue—grinning bashfully at her actually—and Accented Beauty's fair cheeks tinted pink at the attention as she smiled into her glass.

"No," August immediately warned.

"What?" Ruby snapped her head at him after staring off after her, and put two and two together. "No, she likes me better."

"We had a moment when I got here."

"We were talking the entire time downstairs, and I helped Emma and Regina pick the floral arrangements. You don't even know her name!" Ruby stomped her foot petulantly.

Before August could retort, the familiar accent spoke up over the music.

"Ruby?" August's eyes widened when he saw not one, but two Accented Beauties. He hadn't realized the one who had sneaked between them mere seconds ago had been wearing a different style of dress, flowy and fairly conservative compared to her counterpart.

Ruby smiled and turned her attention to the florist. "Hey, Belle."

"This is my sister, Lacey," Belle introduced, though Lacey's eyes had been permanently fixated on August's with a knowing smirk on her burgundy painted lips. "She's here for a few months helping my father and I run the shop."

Slowly, August and Ruby turned to one another, their lips quirking pleasantly. "Lacey," Ruby began, shoving the man toward the woman in a clubbing dress, "this is August."

The foursome walked away from the bar just as Tina caught the mischievous glint in Ruby's eye. The preschool teacher shook her head and hooked Kathryn by the arm and tugged them to the vacated spot. "I thought we agreed no wedding hook ups."

"That was really just for you." Kathryn leaned over the counter and ordered a drink.

"Me?" Tina asked aghast, her even springier curls bouncing in her shock. "What did I do?"

"Las Vegas."

The two words stopped the petite blonde in her tracks and added a pink to her cheeks that wasn't caused by make-up. She muttered nonetheless against Kathryn's laughter and crossed her arms accusingly. "Well, what about you, then? It's been close to a year since you stopped seeing Oliver."

"Can I just be blessedly single for once?" Kathryn reached blindly for her drink only to pull back sharply to find fingers already surrounding it.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss." A voice, deep and sweet that was laced with just a bit of a Southern accent apologized profusely, but Kathryn barely registered it when she noticed the man, tall, crew cut, and one of the three in attendance who had been sporting their army blues. "I thought it was my drink."

Kathryn, despite her sharp tongue and quick thinking as a lawyer, was left gobbling like a fish as Sweet Army Boy chuckled bashfully, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck. "You have good taste in drinks, Miss...?"

"Sorry, Holt, F," Tina said catching his name stitched on his breast before patting his bicep apologetically. "No wedding hook ups."

She looped her arm through Kathryn's and shoved the drink in her hand.

"No, that's just for you!" Kathryn complained, tossing her head over her shoulder to give Holt a parting pout.

They passed August, who was leaning against a wall speaking closely with Lacey. The younger twin had spent the last seven months in Australia back with their Mum, but had been backpacking across Europe since she was seventeen. Her stories rivalled August's. While he had been sowing his wild oats in Thailand, she was trekking along the Berlin Wall. When he had been training in the desert, she had been cliff diving and swimming with manta rays. August was instantly infatuated. If this was what Emma felt for Regina, then sign him up.

"Uncle August!" Henry, nearly as tall as him, slung an arm around his shoulder in greeting. August made a mental note to talk to the kid about game, but Lacey, sensing their time was interrupted momentarily, bowed her head gracefully and stepped away. "My moms were gonna kill you if you showed up late."

August grabbed a champagne flute from a passing server and snorted. "Today would have happened with or without me."

"Yeah, but they'd never let you live it down." He made a grab for the remaining flute on the tray, but August beat him to it, leading the pouting boy away from any semblance of alcohol.

"Good try," he scolded playfully.

"Just one?"

He contemplated it for a moment, glancing between his own glass and Henry's hopeful face before shaking his head. "I value my life."

"They won't know," the teen argued, his voice cracking in his defense. "They're still taking pictures."

August chortled and guided Henry away, whispering something about when he turns sixteen when Ruby, torn away from Belle's side to be the MC for the evening, tapped the microphone at the podium beside the head table near the windows overlooking the beach and called everyone to their seats.

Emma and Regina were about to come up.

"Nervous?"

"Excited."

Regina pressed her forehead against Emma's as the glow from the illuminated stairs silhouetted their features. Strands of hair had escaped from her chignon bun, the bottom of her dress was spotted with sand and dirt from their shoot on the beach, and she was fairly certain there was a pebble in her heel, but she didn't care. She once thought this day was just for show, allowing their friends and family to see them wed, but smiling at Emma, walking down the aisle toward her, marrying her, she finally realized what all the fuss was about.

"Me too," Regina whispered against pink lips, brushing them together just slightly. She leaned back and took Emma in once more. Seeing her at the head of hall with a smile so wide it made her own cheeks hurt sent a flurry of butterflies deep into her stomach. They fluttered so rapidly, she could have sworn they would have lifted her up and flown the rest of the distance to Emma. "Have I told you that you look radiant?"

"Radiant is a new one," Emma admitted playfully. "Beautiful. Gorgeous. Though my personal favourite from today has been delicious."

Regina giggled as Emma dove for her neck, peppering kisses there as she lazily draped her arms around the younger woman's shoulders. They could hear Ruby announce their presence and their guests clap in time with some music, but Regina was fairly certain she could forego being the perfect hostess for a moment if she could relax into the embrace of her wife.

"Ready, Mrs. Swan-Mills?" Emma whispered against her jaw when she trailed her lips up there.

Regina nodded and linked their fingers together. "Ready, Mrs. Swan-Mills."

Together they stepped onto the stairs just as Ruby announced "Presenting Mrs. And Mrs. Swan-Mills!" Their guests cheered the moment they were visible, and Regina nearly blushed under their enthusiasm.

She hadn't really taken in the venue when she walked up those steps an hour earlier, her gaze dead set on green swirls shining happily at her. Whether it was the ornately decorated hall with its purple and red hanging paper lanterns or the guests themselves, standing by their tables surrounding the dance floor, Regina felt a myriad of emotion wash over her. As a child, she and Kat had spent nights lying awake planning their perfect weddings. Grand affairs. Ice sculptures. Doves released into the air as they made their way out of the church. It had once been her dream. But this small wedding in a clubhouse overlooking the ocean with the handful of friends and family they had collected over the years was just perfect.

As they stepped onto the main hall, their arms wrapped around each other's waists, Regina grinned when the table closest to them seating Emma's former squad momentarily stopped them when one of them held his hand up for a high five.

"Nice job, Swan!" Emma smirked and leaned over Regina to palm his hand.

Regina smiled at the young man, attempting to put a name to his demeanor when the burley Argentinean man beside him leaned in closer and spoke softly she barely caught it. "Cuidar de ella."

Regina looked surprised for a moment, but the hint of pride quirking on his otherwise stoic face had her nodding back and whispering, "Si, señor."

She led Emma forward when the blonde looked confused by the quick conversation, but as they waved and smiled to their guests—Emma's director from the youth center for disabled children; Mary Margaret Nolan (sans David) and her heavily pregnant belly; Alicia Stevens and Dr. Caleb Mitchell; Jefferson and Paige Hatter, Robin and Roland Locksley, Marco Borelli, and Gwen du Lac—the moment was forgotten in favour of arriving to the middle of the dance floor. For a brief second, Emma looked uncertain as she studied the floor under their heels, but when the beginning bars of a familiar Aerosmith song blared from the DJ's speaker, the blonde looked up with a grin on her face, pulling Regina close.

"This song reminds me of you," Regina teased as they swayed to and fro along the dance floor.

"Hopefully without the death."

"Definitely without the death."

They chuckled pressing their foreheads together, swaying until the end of the verse before Emma unexpectedly gripped Regina around the waist in time with the chorus and raised her up. Regina yelped surprised and reached quickly behind Emma's neck, but the younger woman's hold was strong. Somewhere in the back of Regina's mind, she could hear the crowd hollering, but all she could process was how entrancing Emma was. When Emma circled them around the floor, slowly lowering her inch by inch, Regina was content to let her arms drape lazily over the blonde's shoulder. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"Kathryn may have introduced me to the dance instructor she went to for her wedding," she shrugged, letting her nails rake lightly against Regina's exposed back.

"Remind me to give her my compliments."

Emma chuckled and easily took up the lead, guiding Regina closely around the floor. When the chorus hit again, Emma lifted their arms and spun Regina so her back nestled perfectly against her front. Regina had to chuckle at that because how many times had they danced around a room at home in the exact same position. She let her head rest against her wife's shoulder and traced the flesh-like feel of the hand settled on her hip. Emma swore she could never feel with it, but the breathy shudder against Regina's neck as her thumbs caressed the artificial limb made Regina wonder. "I just want to hold you close—"

Regina laughed out loud but held firm.

"—feel your heart so close to mine." As the bridge sped up, Regina felt Emma tug on her waist, and surprisingly in time, the blonde spun her out and brought her back in, lifting her in the air once more and spinning them until the bridge faded into the chorus. Emma's pleased smirk was contagious as she brought Regina back down.

"When have you been practising?" Regina asked, genuinely intrigued, holding onto the back of Emma's neck, swaying to the rest of the song.

Emma coyly shrugged and leaned forward until only the barest of centimeters were separating their lips. "I am so happy," she whispered breathily with a hint of astonishment.

Regina held tighter and lifted her chin to place kisses on Emma's eyelids and down the middle of her face before hovering over her lips. "I'll make sure you are every day," she promised.

"Even when it's hard?" Emma wondered quietly.

"Especially when it's hard," Regina promised.

"I love you," Emma breathed. "Have I told you that yet?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure..." Regina shrugged playfully.

"I love you." Neither Emma nor Regina needed the sound of clinking glasses to join their lips in a sweet kiss. Sighing happily against Emma, Regina closed her eyes and fell into her embrace, their lips separating only to find each other again. It was slow, and methodic, and intense, and right, empowering her, lifting her up and knowing that they could battle through anything. The last thirteen years had been a whirlwind of emotion, yet Regina couldn't wait to see what the next sixty had in store for them. They had all the time in the world to figure it out. They were together. Finally.

THE END


End file.
